


Dying For You

by BarricadeButterfly



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Blood and Violence, Christmas Fluff, Conflict Resolution, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Everyone Is Gay, Falling In Love, Family Drama, Friends to Lovers, Gang Violence, Implied/Referenced Hate Crime, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Major Character Injury, Male Slash, Past Violence, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 50,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27167002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarricadeButterfly/pseuds/BarricadeButterfly
Summary: In this modern day AU, Enjolras has just been released from prison (it was always going to happen!) and goes to spend the holiday season with his brother and family at their idyllic countryside house to get back on his feet and make a fresh start with their help. Oh, and there's a particularly captivating artist who just happens to live next door...(Trigger warnings for references to violent hate crimes and violence)
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 67
Kudos: 115





	1. "It Is Time For Us All To Decide Who We Are"

“This can’t be all of it,” said Enjolras as he leafed through the pile of letters. “I’ve been away for almost six months and all I have to come home to is a shit load of junk mail and overdue bills?”

Closing the door behind him, Courfeyrac reached down to the floor to scoop up a handful of takeaway menus and waved them in Enjolras’ face. “Don’t forget the expired vouchers for pizza.”

Enjolras looked unamused and then caught sight of the brightly coloured leaflet and moaned. “Oh god, pizza…”

Courfeyrac laughed. “Guessing that’s not something they serve in the prison canteen?”

As much as Enjolras didn’t really want to think on the last few months that had been wasted in a prison cell, he also appreciated that Courfeyrac wasn’t skirting around the subject like he knew many would; his parents in particular. He was annoyed and yes, he wasn’t without any remorse of the circumstances that had led him there but that was more concentrated on the innocent people who had been unexpectedly hurt and not on any regret over his involvement. One thing he definitely didn’t feel was shame.

“I could eat five calzones back to back right now, I swear to god.”

“We’ll stop off on the way bud,” said Courfeyrac with a sympathetic smile. “But no overdoing it with the pig out session and hurling in my car though, right? Go start packing. The sooner we get on the road the sooner you can have junk food.”

Enjolras looked thoughtfully at the pile of letters he was still holding and tapped them against his other hand before observing the other man with suspicion. “You sure this is it? There’s been nothing else… whenever you called round to check on the place for me? Nothing you’re keeping from me Courf? No death threats? Letter bombs?”

He had received enough of them at prison so not having any waiting for him at home when he got out was nothing short of a miracle. It was surprising enough to find all his house windows still in fact and free of graffiti. Unless Courfeyrac had already seen to that in his absence too which wouldn’t surprise him.

The other man shrugged nonchalantly. “Nothing that exploded.”

“Brilliant! Jesus Christ,” said Enjolras with a sad laugh as he dropped the letters onto the table and wiped a hand over his face.

“Don’t think about it now. One thing at a time,” Courfeyrac spoke tenderly. “Right now just concentrate on getting your stuff packed. Oh, and make sure you bring plenty of sweaters and long sleeve stuff. It can get really cold in that attic room, especially at this time of year.”

Enjolras stood for a moment, fighting the sudden urge to wrap his arms around his brother in law and hold him tightly. There was no denying he had lost a lot of friends since all this happened, and family members had turned their backs on him, but Courfeyrac was still there just as he had always been and Enjolras was so grateful for that. The day this man had married his brother and became his family was a good one indeed.

Enjolras didn’t have either the energy or inclination to speak anymore in that moment so he answered Courfeyrac with just a nod of agreement and took himself off into his bedroom to retrieve the suitcase from on top of the wardrobe and start stuffing his clothes into it, suddenly eager to be away from there. He hadn’t even realised that he was being watched silently from the doorway until he paused, staring blindly into the suitcase with a scrunched up baseball shirt in his hands and heard the other man’s voice.

“Enj? Do you need some help?”

It wasn’t like Enjolras to be weak, to yield, to allow himself to be defeated by anything, much less his own emotions; hell he had got through nearly half an excruciating year in prison and not allowed his resolve to slip once, yet here now he could feel the unutterable weariness that had been kept at bay for so long beginning to sweep in. When he caught the look of concern in Courfeyrac’s eyes, he wanted to burst into tears and that scared him more than six months behind bars.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea-“

“Enj, if you don’t get your ass in that car I swear to god…” Courfeyrac punctuated his words with an exaggerated sigh and then grinned. “Put it this way, if I turn up back at home without you I’m gonna end up with a divorce on my hands and then I’ll have to sleep on your questionable sofa and there’s not enough room for two in this shit hole.”

Enjolras laughed gratefully as he balled up a t-shirt and launched it across the room where Courfeyrac caught the missile and pitched it straight back into the open suitcase with a proud smirk.

*

It was a long drive and for that Enjolras was thankful. He wasn’t ready to face his brother just yet. It didn’t matter how many times Courfeyrac told him that the guy really did love him and how it was for that exact reason why he had been unable to visit him, to collect him on release day or to be sat there in the car beside him right now instead of sending his husband. Enjolras wasn’t stupid enough not to realise that the anger and frustration came from a place of fear which was rooted in love but it didn’t change the fact that, as much as he liked to deny it, right then he really could have used some brotherly support.

Not that Courfeyrac in his role as brother in law and unofficial chauffeur didn’t make a massive difference and if Enjolras had to choose anyone other than his brother to be there with him at that moment, he wouldn’t have picked anyone else.

“You can put the radio on if you like. Or there’s some cds in the glovebox I think,” said Courfeyrac, glancing over his shoulder as he pulled onto the motorway slip road. “Either that or start talking bud cuz I’m not spending the next three hours in this car in complete silence.”

“Is it ok if I smoke?” Enjolras felt a bit stupid asking after all the cigarettes they had shared in the car over the years but he was also aware that a lot of time had passed and many things had inevitably changed.

“Only if you light me one up as well,” Courfeyrac replied with a wink.

“I thought you’d stopped?”

“Yeah, I have, so this never happened all right?”

Enjolras shuffled forward in his seat so he could reach the pouch of tobacco in his back pocket and he rolled two cigarettes, making one as skinny as possible before he lit it and passed it into Courfeyrac’s hand.

“That’s pathetic,” said Courfeyrac after taking one drag that extinguished almost a third of the stick in one go and frowned at it between his fingers. “Either you’re taking the piss or you’ve just got good at making baccy last.”

Enjolras exhaled a long breath of smoke out of the open window and then turned his head back to his brother in law and smiled. “To be honest I’m just trying to save my brother a murder charge. If we both turn up smelling of smoke he’s gonna bury me under the damn patio.”

“We haven’t got the patio anymore. Dug it up to make room for a little vegetable patch,” said Courfeyrac and glanced sideways, laughing when he saw the shock on Enjolras’ face. “Yeah, I know, but the kids love it.”

“Christ, what else has changed while I’ve been away?”

Courfeyrac took a deep breath and let it out in a slow sigh. “Nothing really major. Oh, Zel has started nursery now though. She’s turning into a right little madam. Runs us all ragged.”

Enjolras took another drag on his cigarette as he felt his heart lurch. “Wow, my little niece is growing up. Are you trying to tell me that in a house full of boys the three year old girl is in charge?”

“Damn right, and she knows it.”

The idyllic life that his brother enjoyed with his little family was a world away from the life that Enjolras knew; while they were planning family holidays to the coast, he was planning protest marches and where they were building memories for a photo album, he was building picket lines. When his brother was falling asleep in his husband’s arms at the end of a long day, Enjolras was alone in his study, poring over the latest campaign material with his computer on so he could send information back and forth between other members of the left wing activist group he ran, until he eventually fell asleep with his head on the desk and an empty brandy glass in his hand. And he loved it. Considering there was only four years difference in age between the two of them, they were as different as brothers could be; something that had accounted for many fist fights and arguments while they had been growing up under the same roof.

“How about that crazy nephew of mine? Is he still killing it on the hockey field?”

A proud grin spread instantly on Courfeyrac’s face. “He’s captain now. Two months since. So he’s convinced he’s going to end up playing for England one day now.”

“Why not? That little dude is a legend and he can do anything he puts his mind to,” said Enjolras fondly. “He’s got the determination and guts to get what he wants.”

“Yeah, wonder which Uncle he gets that from?”

It didn’t matter that the boy was adopted and moreover, hadn’t spent nearly enough time over the last nine years with his Uncle to have acquired any more familial attributes than hereditary ones; it still made Enjolras’ heart swell with pride to hear it.

“Do they know anything? About what’s happened, I mean?” Enjolras felt guilty just for asking but he needed to be prepared. “I know Azelma’s probably still too young to understand anyway but does Gavroche know where I’ve been?”

“No, we didn’t let him see the news or the papers at the time and we just told him you were busy with work. He wasn’t happy that you missed his birthday though, Enj, I’ve gotta say.”

Enjolras flicked his cigarette out the window and leant back against the head rest, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment because he needed to block out the light of reality for just a few seconds. “ _FUCK.”_

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad, but you need to know in case he brings it up, which he most likely will.”

Enjolras opened his eyes only to see that the vision of the road had blurred somewhat. “Am I gonna be allowed to take him out while I’m over? And Zel too? Maybe I could take them somewhere for the day, or just into town and raid the toy shops? I feel the need to appease my guilt with a spending spree and I’m sure they will both be happy to oblige.”

“You don’t need to do that Enj,” said Courfeyrac with a gentle laugh. “Just spend some time with them while you’ve got the chance. They didn’t see you enough as it was before all this happened anyway. They’re both so excited to have you here for Christmas.”

The upcoming holiday season wasn’t one that ordinarily held any significance to Enjolras; he wasn’t religious or particularly susceptible to the influence of outdated traditions in any case, yet there was an unexpected anticipation of pleasure at the chance to spend this years festivities with his brother’s family and to experience life from an entirely new angle for once. After the last few hellish months, it would be a welcome change and he wasn’t about to deny that. His brother had insisted it was what he needed and Enjolras was inclined to agree, though he never would have admitted as much.

*

As the journey neared its end, the city landscape fell away to be replaced by the clean open skies of the northern countryside, slowly turning a warm amber under the subdued light of the setting sun. With the motorway behind them and quieter roads before them, twisting up and over the hilly horizon and stretching seemingly into nothing, Enjolras felt like he should be feeling calmed by the beautiful scenery but it only succeeded in having the opposite effect. Leafless trees, fields full of sheep and dry-stone walls meant they were getting closer to his brother and that meant having to face the only type of conflict Enjolras ever wanted to run from.

The sprawling old farmhouse in which the family lived was nestled at the end of a long dirt track which, at this time of year, was often a muddy mess and unnegotiable on foot without proper wellington boots and even then it was never a clean or easy experience. As the car trundled at a forcibly slower pace over the unstable terrain, Enjolras fought the urge to roll the rest of his tobacco into a handful of cigarettes and chain smoke them one after the other in quick succession. Combeferre was going to kill him. _Oh God._

“Looks pretty dark,” Courfeyrac noted with a nod to the unlit windows directly ahead of them and unable to keep the concern from his voice. “Maybe they’re in the garden.”

Enjolras bent his head to get a better view through the windscreen of the house ahead. From the approaching driveway, the building offered a side on view where the single sash windows of the kitchen could just be seen poking out over the top of the bordering hedgerow. As the car headlights fell upon the panes of glass, the reflected light illuminated the building making it look more lively than it apparently was. With the rapidly growing darkness of the evening, the contours of the huge brick chimney and dark slate roof that rose up into the inky sky cast an imposing shadow over the gravelled entrance and the rest of the house was obliterated from view because of it, making it seem much smaller than Enjolras knew it was. He had not been in the place more than a handful of times but he remembered the impressive spaciousness of the interior, deceptive from it’s outer shell, and how on his first visit he had walked round with his nose in the air marvelling at the tall ceilings, teasing his brother about reaching up to attack the stringy cobwebs clinging to the beams.

At the gate, Courfeyrac pulled the car to a halt as Enjolras jumped out on numb legs to unlatch it and allow them passage. Three hours squished up in Courfeyrac’s little Astra had done his back no favours and the cool evening air that hit his face was invigorating. If his brother became too much, he would go for a run and stretch his legs. There were plenty of picturesque pathways to follow nearby.

“Quiet?” Enjolras observed as he walked back to where his brother in law had parked the car and was unloading the suitcase from the boot.

“Yeah, _too_ quiet for my lot,” Courfeyrac answered with a frown of concern on his face as he strode towards the front door, still carrying the case.

Enjolras pushed his hands into his pockets and followed, feeling completely useless and wishing he was anywhere but here now. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

The front door was unlocked so someone had to be home and when the two men walked into the long hallway that ran the length of the ground floor and ended at the kitchen door, they could see light spilling out from beneath just one of the inner doors – the small utility room. Enjolras followed his brother in law towards it and when Courfeyrac turned the handle they saw Combeferre stood at the washing machine, unloading a pile of wet clothes into a basket.

“Hey, where are the kids?” Courfeyrac asked, still stood in the doorway as his husband looked up and met his eyes with a brief smile.

“They’re next door. Thought it would be a good idea to not have them here when you arrived,” Combeferre replied, purposely avoiding the eyes of his brother who was watching him silently from Courfeyrac’s side.

“You didn’t need to do that. We agreed, didn’t we? No flying off the handle Ferre. Not in front of the kids and not at all if you can possibly help it, remember? It’s not gonna help Enj one bit.”

At the mention of his brother’s name, Combeferre seemed unable to resist finally making eye contact with the man and the look of sheer pained betrayal in his eyes as he beheld Enjolras was heart-breaking for the recipient to witness.

“It’s good to see you bro,” Enjolras said meekly, as he stepped forward and held out a hand to his brother. It seemed unavoidable that he should be the one to make the first move but Combeferre just stared at the offered hand and then scoffed as he shook his head and turned his back to resume sorting the washing.

“Ferre,” Courfeyrac coaxed softly and reached out to grasp hold of his husband’s arm.

“Just give me a bit of time please,” Combeferre said with his back to both of them which didn’t hide the sound of tears in his voice as well as it hid the view of them in his eyes.

Enjolras swapped a look with Courfeyrac and hesitated before he spoke. “I’m sorry for everything Ferre. I know this hasn’t been fair on you and I know-“

“I don’t think you _DO_ know Enjolras,” Combeferre snapped as he turned back and glared at his brother. “But then why would you? It’s only our little lives that are being messed around with. Not important at all, right? Not in comparison with your endless fights for justice. Jesus Fuck.”

Enjolras shut his mouth and stood there feeling as small as he inevitably looked in that moment. He had expected worse to be honest and he knew the best and really only choice he had was to take whatever Combeferre wanted to throw at him and be humble about it. He owed him that at least.

“Come on Ferre, please,” said Courfeyrac, as ever the peacemaker between the two brothers; a role he had unwittingly stepped into many years ago and wrangled ever since.

“No it’s fine. Say whatever you need to bro. I’m listening. Feel free to punch me if it makes you feel better,” Enjolras said and turned his head to one side to offer his face.

“You can’t solve every problem with violence Enjolras, but I wouldn’t expect you to know that,” said Combeferre with a sad shake of his head as he heaved an exasperated sigh and shouldered his way past them into the hallway.

“Where are you going?” Courfeyrac asked.

“Get the kids. They will need to have their baths soon.” Combeferre started to walk away but after a few steps, he paused and made a half turn back. “Look, I’m glad you’re OK and I’m glad you’re here. That’s the best you’re gonna get from me at the minute.”

“I’ll take it,” Enjolras said and smiled pointlessly seeing as his brother was avoiding his eyes again. “Thank you bro.”

“Get the bath ready will you Courf? I think Zel at least is gonna have to get straight in as Grantaire’s been letting them help with the painting. God only knows what state they’ll be in by now.”

As Combeferre made his way out the door, Enjolras turned to Courfeyrac and frowned. “Who the fuck is Grantaire?”


	2. "Fallen From Grace"

The high-pitched squeal of his niece awoke Enjolras the following morning. Groggy from too much uninterrupted sleep in a comfortable bed, he rolled onto his back and rubbed one hand across his forehead, blinking against the light as he opened his eyes. There were no curtains at the window of the attic room in which he was staying (privacy didn’t seem an issue considering how high up it was) and white sunlight was streaming through the glass onto his bed. He laid still for a moment, waiting for the haze of consciousness to settle, and his eyes fluttered closed again until a moment later when another shrill squeal from Azelma pierced the silence. _Fuck, that girl had some healthy lungs on her!_

The sound of her voice, now bubbling into a constant stream of laughter, seemed to be coming from outside and Enjolras could now hear the distinctly lower tones of his brother too. Pushing the duvet off, he stumbled out of bed and crossed the room to the window, peering down at the scene below where the little family was gathered by the car. Gavroche was already strapped in the back seat, leaning out of the open door to call to his Dad to get a move on but Combeferre didn’t hear him as he was too busy at that moment having a raucous tickling frenzy with his daughter who was giggling as she writhed about in her other dad’s arms.

“ _DAD!_ We’re gonna be late. Come _ON!_ ” Gavroche complained and finally drew the attention of both his fathers who turned simultaneously to observe him.

“Since when were you so desperate to get to school?” Courfeyrac asked as he readjusted Azelma in his arms and grinned over at his son, earning a scowl in response from the boy before he ducked back into the car and out of view.

Combeferre turned back to his husband and said “Since he was told he could have some practice time on the field before first class starts.”

“Great. Another muddy kit to wash tonight then,” Courfeyrac replied as he leant in to kiss his husband goodbye.

Combeferre brought a hand to the back of the other man’s neck to draw him close for a short embrace before he planted a soft kiss on the top of Azelma’s head and made his way to the car, throwing them both a last wave before he got in the drivers seat and started the engine.

Enjolras watched as the car drove away and Courfeyrac followed it on foot to where he closed the gate behind the departing vehicle and turned back to the house, Azelma still in his arms. It was at this point that the little girl caught sight of her Uncle and started flailing her arms madly with a call of his name that drew Courfeyrac’s eyes up to the window. When he saw Enjolras, he smiled and beckoned him down.

*

“Don’t you have to work today as well?” Enjolras asked as he sat himself in a chair at the kitchen table and watched his brother in law pouring coffee into two cups.

“Booked a day off,” said Courfeyrac, passing one of the drinks to Enjolras before he leant back against the kitchen counter and warmed his hands around his own cup.

“For my sake I gather? You didn’t need to do that.” He wasn’t going to draw any attention; even his own, to the fact that it had been his brother in law and not his brother who had opted to take a day off work for him.

“Hey, it’s a good excuse. Besides, the babysitter is on holiday this week and Zel is only doing three days at nursery so it just makes sense.”

Enjolras was tempted to speak out and offer himself up for babysitting duties while he was there but considering Combeferre could barely bring himself to be in the same room as his little brother at the moment, it seemed unlikely he’d be willing to trust the guy with his daughter and it would be cruel to put Courfeyrac in the middle of that.

“Oh, but while I’m thinking about it-“ Courfeyrac paused mid-sentence as he opened a drawer and rooted around among the contents before finally extracting a small gold key and holding it out for Enjolras to take. “For while you’re here.”

Enjolras’ fingers closed around the cold metal and he smiled sadly. “Are you sure Ferre is ok with me having this?”

“It was his idea, actually. He wants you to feel at home and be able to come and go as you please.”

“With more emphasis on the go, presumably?”

“That’s not fair, Enj. He _does w_ ant you here.” Courfeyrac took a seat opposite Enjolras and held the other man’s gaze across the table. “You didn’t hear this from me but he cried himself to sleep last night.”

Enjolras had raised the cup to his mouth but at these words he lowered it back to the table and sighed, leaning on his elbows and resting his head in his hand. “ _Fuck._ What am I supposed to do Courf?”

“Just be patient with him. He feels like he’s failed you.”

Enjolras frowned at him. “ _HE’S_ failed _ME?_ ”

“Well think about it Enj, he’s always been the protective big brother, making excuses for you and bailing you out when you got in trouble, and he couldn’t this time. There was nothing he could do to save you and as your big brother, he’s taken that as a massive failure on his part.”

“It’s not up to him to save me. I’m no longer a child.”

“I know that and so does he but… well, you know… it’s Ferre. He tries to be a father to everyone,” said Courfeyrac and couldn’t help but smile. “The two of you looked after each other for so long, especially after he came out and your parents turned their backs. It was always just the two of you against the world… until I came along.”

Enjolras was about to say something complimentary but before he had the chance, Azelma’s voice rang through the silence: “ _DADDYYYYYY!_ I can’t get my shoe on!”

Courfeyrac laughed as he got up from the table. “Duty calls! Make yourself some breakfast if you want Enj. You’ll soon find where everything is.”

Once he was alone in the kitchen, Enjolras slumped down in his chair and downed the rest of his coffee, feeling thoroughly drained. He had thought that staying with his brother for a while would make him feel stronger to be surrounded by family but right now he had never felt so alone.

*

With plenty of excess anxious energy to burn and none of the normal outlets for it, Enjolras decided to try and run it off instead. Sitting still for too long made him uneasy at the best of times but when he had to do so in someone else’s house, it was even worse. Courfeyrac had taken his daughter out to the shop and the house, as big as it was, felt way too empty and himself way too alone within its walls. Not to mention the thoughts that were racing a million miles an hour through his mind and refusing to let go of him. Running always soothed him and after the last six months, he was eager to spend as much time outside as he could and feel the freedom of the world around him as he covered however much distance that his fancy took. No boundaries, no restrictions, no confinement; he could just run and run and enjoy feeling free.

The sky was grey, rain clouds threatened and the misty air definitely had a chill to it but this only made the run more appealing as there were less people around to disturb him. Once Enjolras had changed into his sweats and was taking the footpath that led away from the house and around the side of the nearest field, there was not a person in sight and no sound other than his own footsteps and the occasional caw of overhead birds. He ran at a steady pace, soaking it all up and feeling himself calm more with every step.

Back home in London there was nowhere near enough space. He didn’t usually notice it because quite apart from anything else, he didn’t ordinarily have the time to, but the stark comparison of the open country around his brother’s home had never been more apparent. The clean air, the quiet, the lack of traffic of any description; he could see the appeal of it more now than he ever had in the past. Enjolras picked up the pace as he reached the end of the field and traversed the wooden stile that linked the footpath to another, heading south along the edge of a forest. It felt good to run hard until his lungs started to burn and the intoxication of the freedom it brought spurred him on until he was barely aware of the ache in his legs or the tightness of his chest. He almost felt like he was flying and it was only when he rounded a corner and hurtled at an unstoppable pace straight into a dog walker that he was forced to an abrupt halt. The man in question was sent flying backwards and ended up sprawled on the dirt as Enjolras staggered gracelessly to a stop, taking a considerable amount of effort not to topple further forward and end up face first on top of him.

“ _FUCK’S SAKE!”_ the man exclaimed but before Enjolras had a chance to even offer up an apology, the Doberman that was now loose on it’s lead suddenly lunged forward with a hearty growl and sank its teeth into Enjolras’ leg.

A mixture of the sudden shooting pain and sheer surprise made him stumble backwards until the trunk of a nearby tree hit his back and stopped him from falling, just as the dog jumped at him in a second attack. Enjolras instinctively put a shielding arm across his face but contact was never made as in that moment, the other man scrambled to his feet and grabbed the lead, pulling the animal back.

“Jesus… fuck! Are you ok?” The fear in the man’s voice was unhidden.

“No I’m not fucking ok! Your dog just attacked me!” Enjolras spat, crouching down and lifting the hem of his trouser leg to get a better look at the wound. Bright red spots of blood had already soaked through the grey fabric and as he touched his hand to the punctures in his skin, more globules formed and he winced at the pain.

“Hey, you were the one who wasn’t looking where he was going! She thought you were attacking me. She was just defending me,” the man argued, and the dog retreated humbly to his side as if it was trying to show a united front with its master.

Enjolras didn’t have an answer to that so he just glared up at the man as he massaged his leg. The mixture of pain and exertion was mixing into a dangerous concoction of adrenaline that was threatening to express itself in an unhealthy way if he didn’t keep a lid on it. There was no way he could afford to get himself in any more trouble at the moment.

“Umm… you should probably get that cleaned and bandaged up. I’m sure it’s just a superficial wound. She’s usually really docile.”

“Ha! I’ll take your word for that!” Enjolras scoffed as he stood up shakily and leant back against the tree again to get his breath and steady himself.

“You can walk on it though right?”

In reply, Enjolras shifted his weight onto the leg in question and grimaced at the discomfort. “Well that’s the run done then! Gonna take me fucking ages to get home.”

“Look, I don’t live far away. Come back to mine and get it cleaned up and then I can drive you home… if that’ll help.”

Enjolras beheld the unmasked fear on the other man’s face and shook his head with a sigh. “It’s ok, I’m not gonna report you and get your dog euthanised or anything like that so you can relax. I’ll be fine.”

As if to prove his point, he took a few steps forward but wobbled unsteadily and the other man instinctively reached a hand out in anticipation of him falling.

“For fuck’s sake, just come with me, will you? I’ll feel awful otherwise. My house is only just over there,” he said with a vague wave towards the field Enjolras had just exited.

“You gonna keep that animal under control?”

The other man’s eyes narrowed and he looked as if he was fighting himself not to set the dog loose to finish what she had started but he just turned his back on Enjolras, started walking away and called back over his shoulder. “It’s this way.”

The man was heading the same way as Enjolras would have to go anyway so he reluctantly followed as fast as his injured leg would allow, mindful to keep a constant distance as he went. The man was no threat but the dog was another matter entirely.

The silence that had been so euphoric on his run in the opposite direction was significantly less pleasant on the return journey. Every so often, the other man would glance over his shoulder to make sure Enjolras was still following him. As they walked the length of the field, the dirt track that led to the house came into sight ahead and Enjolras finally spoke up.

“Listen, I’ll be fine from here. The place I’m staying is just over there anyway so-“

The dog strained against the lead as it’s owner stopped and turned fully round to face Enjolras with a look of dawning realisation that made his eyes widen. “Holy shit… you’re not Ferre’s brother are you?”

Enjolras frowned suspiciously at the guy but then he looked behind him to the almost identical dirt path that led in the opposite direction and the penny dropped. “Fuck, you’re the artist who lives next door aren’t you?”

With a pained smile, he nodded. “Grantaire but people call me R. And Ferre’s gonna kill me for injuring his brother.”

Enjolras shook his head with a sad laugh. “I wouldn’t bet on that.”

*

Grantaire insisted on accompanying Enjolras all the way to the front door, his guilt even worse now he knew the identity of the guy his dog had injured. Courfeyrac still hadn’t returned and as Enjolras searched his new key out of his pocket and used it for the first time, Grantaire stood on the driveway holding a now very subdued dog on the lead at his side and watching worriedly.

“You look very pale. Are you sure you’ll be OK on your own?”

Enjolras turned in the doorway to offer a smile. The anger had faded now but he didn’t particularly want to have to entertain a stranger either when the more appealing option was a hot shower, clean clothes and coffee. “Courf will be back soon. And I’m fine. I always look like this.”

It was a lame attempt at a joke but Grantaire didn’t seem to get it and just stared, lines of worry still etched onto his face. “Well…. Sorry again. Was nice to meet you at last… maybe not in these exact circumstances but… you know.”

“Yeah,” said Enjolras. “Sorry for bowling you over.”

Grantaire laughed nervously and his eyes shot down to the floor. When he looked back up a moment later, his face had flushed with colour but he was too far away from the other man for him to notice.

Enjolras nodded goodbye and closed the door behind him with a sigh of relief but he’d only got as far as the other end of the hallway when it opened again and Grantaire came marching in.

“You’re not going to know where they keep the first aid box,” he announced as he walked up to Enjolras, throwing him a wink as he passed him and made his way into the kitchen.

“What the- Where’s your dog?”

“Garden,” Grantaire replied without turning his head from where he was now stood on tiptoe in front of one of the higher cupboards, reaching past various tins and packets of dry pasta, feeling his way to the very back of the cupboard.

Enjolras was still stood in the doorway, frowning at him in disbelief. “What the hell are you doing?”

Grantaire didn’t immediately answer but a moment later, he pulled something from the back of the cupboard and turned back to Enjolras with a proud smirk on his face, brandishing a plastic child’s lunchbox with a faded Transformers sticker on the front.

“Don’t ask me why it’s kept in one of Gav’s old lunchboxes but I know it’s hidden at the back so the kids can’t get the medication. Very safety conscious, your brothers.”

In spite of himself, Enjolras laughed. “Yeah, OK, you’re right. I never would have found it there.”

Grantaire sat himself at the table and placed the box in front of him, unclasping it and fingering through the contents. “You need to wash it and make sure it’s clean of dirt and stuff before we cover it up,” he instructed without looking up.

Enjolras was still stood in the doorway, feeling a little wrongfooted by the presence of this ‘almost’ stranger in his brother’s kitchen who seemed vastly more at home in the house than he was. When he didn’t move, Grantaire paused and looked up at him expectantly, spurring Enjolras into an automatic response as he moved to the sink and ran the water. Grabbing a wad of tissue from the nearby roll, he bathed the dry blood from the wound, making a solid effort not to show any signs of pain at the pressure of his own touch. At least the flow of blood seemed to have subsided and there was just an angry red gash and some very obvious red punctures in the skin that were already beginning to colour purple around the centre. Enjolras didn’t even realise he was holding his breath until he turned around and sat down in a chair at the table and let it out in a long sigh, stretching his leg out in front of him.

“Ok, that looks pretty bad. You might need a tetanus shot,” said Grantaire as he kneeled down on the floor in front of Enjolras and wrapped his hand around the back of the man’s ankle, lifting it up for a closer inspection.

Enjolras pressed his lips together tightly to stop a gasp from escaping and it wasn’t from any pain this time but from the sudden tremor that jolted through his body at the feel of this man’s hand on his skin. Quickly, he pulled his leg back out of the grasp, making Grantaire spring back onto his heels and hold his hands up in a show of surrender.

“Oh god, sorry! Did that hurt?”

_Fuck’s sake Enj. Don’t be so bloody ridiculous. You’re in shock, that’s all._

He forced a smile as he sat forward, grabbed the tube of ointment that Grantaire had extracted ready and busied himself applying some of it before the other man had the chance to try and take over again. It was soothingly cool on his skin and as he began wrapping a bandage around his leg, he avoided the eyes that he could feel boring into him as he worked.

“I’m so sorry. She’s never done anything like this before.” Grantaire’s voice was timid somewhere in the background and Enjolras spent longer than he needed to in securing the bandage to prolong the amount of time he could get away with not looking up and making eye contact. He didn’t even know why, he just knew he suddenly couldn’t look him in the eye.

“It’s good to know she’ll protect you if you’re ever attacked for real though, right?” he said eventually, raising himself back to an upright position and offering the man a smile to show there was no hidden malice in his words.

“There is that!” Grantaire laughed, and brought a hand up to cup the back of his own neck. He held Enjolras’ gaze for the briefest of moments before his eyes fell to the floor and he laughed again, awkwardly and anxiously. “Well I should leave you to recover in peace… unless you want-“

There was no chance to finish that sentence as the front door then flung open and Azelma came pattering into the hallway, her confused looking father close behind.

“Why is R’s dog in the gard- _Oh,_ ” said Courfeyrac as he reached the kitchen and was met by two pairs of guilty eyes. “OK, what have I missed?”


	3. "Rain Will Make The Flowers Grow"

Enjolras had been at his brother’s house for less than two days when the snow began to fall, subsequently leading his young niece to believe she had a magician for an Uncle who could conjure anything at will if she pestered enough.

“You are so stupid Zel. He is _not_ Santa!” Gavroche berated the little girl with all the superiority of an older brother.

“Hey! Enough of that. Don’t call your sister names.” Combeferre shot him a warning look across the room from where he was crouched down in front of his daughter, doing up the buttons of her coat and wriggling woolly mittens into place over her hands.

Azelma, as usual, wasn’t listening to her brother anyway. “Daddy, will the magic stop when Uncle Enj goes home cuz I don’t want him to go home and it will make me cry if the magic stops if he goes away.”

Combeferre tucked the little girl’s hat down over her ears and laughed. “Your Uncle doesn’t have magic powers sweetheart, it’s just a coincidence that it’s started snowing now, but you can still enjoy it with him while he’s here, can’t you?”

“You mustn’t say things like _con-den-ses_ or you’ll scare the magic away,” she pouted.

With such good timing that Combeferre was actually tempted to rise up and throw his arms around his little brother for the first time in months, Enjolras chose that moment to walk into the room, zipping up his jacket and bringing his hands together in a slightly muffled clap through his gloves. “Right, who’s ready to go outside and freeze?”

Gavroche whooped in response as he ran to the door, somewhat ungainly in his wellington boots that were ever so slightly too big for his feet.

“Gav, I’m watching you! Be gentle with your sister,” Combeferre called after him as the door flung open and the boy disappeared through it, letting a cold chill sweep into the room.

Enjolras reached down to take Azelma’s hand and caught his brother’s eye, offering a smile and feeling warmed a little when he got a half-hearted attempt at one in return. It was the most he had received from the man since his arrival and it felt like progress, albeit of the very slow variety.

“If they get too much, just yell,” the older brother offered, taking a last moment to adjust Azelma’s hat and make sure it was well and truly secure on her head which was likely more about distracting himself than performing fatherly duties, considering she was already more padding than child in all her layers.

“It’s fine, stop worrying. They’re quite safe with me. Go and take the chance to relax with Courf for a bit,” Enjolras said as Azelma pulled with all her strength on his hand to make him move faster. At the door, he turned back and called over his shoulder “We’ll come in when we get cold!”

As far as declarations went, it was a rather ambiguous one as it quickly became clear that such an eventuality was not likely to happen anytime soon for either child. Enjolras, on the other hand, was dreaming of a hot drink and dry clothes within minutes of being battered by the harsh winter weather. _Jesus, when had he become so old?_

Gavroche had it in mind that he wasn’t going to settle for anything less than the most impressive snowman that had ever been built but after the first attempt literally fell flat, he quickly became distracted hurling snowballs at his Uncle instead. In return, Enjolras discovered that managing two children of different sizes and abilities by himself was more challenging than he had appreciated, particularly in such an unforgiving environment. Luckily, Azelma soon decided that the snow was much too cold for her hands, even through her mittens which were soaking wet within minutes anyway, and was happier to be carried around in her Uncle’s arms which was a substantially cosier place to be. Enjolras rested her against his hip and cuddled her close with one arm as he used the other to fire snowy missiles back at his nephew who dodged practically every one.

The blank canvas that the garden had started out as soon became a slushy battlefield of muddy snow and Enjolras could no longer feel any of his extremities through the numbness. Neither child seemed close to admitting defeat, however, so when Courfeyrac appeared at the door with an announcement that a pan of hot chocolate was warming on the stove, it was quite possibly the best news Enjolras had ever heard.

“Five more minutes Dad! Please?” Gavroche pleaded from across the garden, waving a fallen tree branch that he was using to rake patterns in what was left of the snow.

Courfeyrac took Azelma out of Enjolras’ arms and grinned at the red face of his brother in law. “They’ll have you out here all night if you don’t put your foot down. Go inside and get warm bud.”

As he gratefully took the cue to leave, Enjolras called over to his nephew. “Go easy on your dad, Gav!”

Perhaps it was the rush of adrenalin from the fun with his niece and nephew or the equally enjoyable warmth of the kitchen that clung to him as soon as he opened the door, but for a few moments, Enjolras felt like everything was perfect and normal and just as it was supposed to be. He kicked his boots off on the doormat and shook the snow out of his hair as he shrugged off his coat and pulled his jumper over his head. Combeferre was stood at the cooker with his back to his brother, stirring the pan of hot chocolate.

“Your kids are insane bro, I mean completely mad! Where the hell does Gav get all his energy from? He completely slaughtered me out there. And Zel is one hardcore little warrior!” Enjolras laughed as he fell into a chair at the table with an exhausted sigh.

In the moment of silence that followed before Combeferre eventually glanced over his shoulder and offered a forced smile, reality brought Enjolras back to earth with a bump.

“Do you want a cup of this?” The question was empty of emotion and as cold as the snow that was still melting on Enjolras’ skin. And it was that which pushed the younger brother over the edge.

“Ferre, please, I can’t take anymore of this! Please can’t you just forgive me and let us move on?”

At that point, any show of emotion in response would have been welcome but Combeferre remained calm and collected and said nothing as he poured some of the liquid into a mug and set it down on the table in front of his brother.

“Fuck’s sake!” Enjolras scraped his chair back noisily as he stood and grabbed his brother’s arm before he could turn away again. “We can’t go on like this! I miss you Ferre. I miss my brother. I just want it to be like it was before-“

“Before you got yourself thrown in a prison cell for half a goddamn year, you mean? Don’t push me Enjolras because you’re not going to like it if you do.”

In a purposeful show of defiance, Enjolras released the hold on his brother and took a step back, arms folded and jaw set and when he spoke again, his voice was steady. “Try me. Anything’s better than this.”

Combeferre laughed coldly. “You think this is bad? You think two days of me being… tolerant of you is hard going? I’ve had months of suffering because of you and you want me to let you off the hook after two measly fucking days? Do you? _REALLY ENJOLRAS?_ ” With those words, he grabbed his brother by the shoulders and shoved him backwards. “You have no idea just how fucking angry I am with you right now!”

Enjolras steadied himself but didn’t make the mistake of trying to reach for his brother again. “I think I’ve got a fair idea actually.”

“You think, do you? You think you honestly have any idea what you’ve put me through? Jesus Christ, you really haven’t got a clue.”

When the door opened, Combeferre caught the eye of his husband and quickly turned his back before the kids had a chance to see the expression on his face, moving back to his previous position at the cooker and fighting to steady his shaky breathing.

Courfeyrac froze for a second, exchanged a wide eyed looked with Enjolras and scooped Azelma back up in one arm as he steered his son by the shoulder with the other. “Umm, come on kids. Lets go get dried off first.”

Neither child had any time to protest before their father had led them both from the room and closed the door behind them. Combeferre turned back to Enjolras with a jittery sigh as he rubbed a hand over his forehead and let their eyes meet from under the shade of his fingers.

“I don’t want to do this.”

“Why not?” Enjolras asked, taking care to sound as non-confrontational as he could possibly manage given the circumstance. “You obviously have a lot that you actually _DO_ want to say so why don’t you just get it all off your chest? Might make you feel a bit better.”

When Combeferre didn’t respond, Enjolras pulled out a chair for him at the table and then sat himself back in the one opposite and waited, making sure he kept his eyes on him the whole time. There was a minute when neither brother moved or spoke and the only sound in the room was the faint bubbling of the forgotten hot chocolate in the pan. Combeferre eventually moved and instead of sitting in the offered chair, he rested his hands on the back of it and took a couple of long, faltering breaths as if he was still inwardly fighting against himself not to say a word. That, however, didn’t last long.

“ _SIX – LONG – FUCKING – MONTHS,”_ he snarled. “I didn’t know what was happening to you in there. I didn’t know if you were ok, if you were being hurt, if… if anyone was getting to you. I haven’t slept for worry, I’ve hardly eaten, I’ve had so many arguments with Courf, I nearly lost my fucking job because I had a melt down at work… I even had our bloody homophobic parents on the phone blaming me for it all. Did you know that if I wasn’t gay this would never have happened? Work that one out, if you will.”

“I’m sorry-“

“ _DON’T!_ Don’t you dare start apologising again and thinking that’s gonna be enough to make it all better. I haven’t even got started yet!” Combeferre’s knuckles were turning white from his grip on the chair and Enjolras’ eye fell upon them when it became too difficult to hold his brother’s gaze any longer. “Do you know what’s the worst bit of all though? What hurts the most?”

The silence that followed made it clear to Enjolras that this was a question he was actually supposed to answer but as he genuinely didn’t know what that answer was, he stayed silent and waited.

“I would happily go through all of this pain and heartache anytime for you if it was necessary… If there had been some big miscarriage of justice or something and you’d been screwed by the system and wrongly imprisoned…. But you _DESERVED_ to be locked up.” Combeferre paused for a moment after this, as if he was waiting for the words to really take effect, but Enjolras did and said nothing. “You _CHOSE_ to organise that protest on the same day you knew those fucking idiots from the WNP were going to be out in force for the election. You knew you were heading straight into a riot and you knew – _YOU KNOW_ – what those guys are capable of and yet you went in anyway and took a bunch of innocent people with you.”

Something snapped inside Enjolras and he sprung up from his chair. “Whoa, hang on! I never forced anyone to be there!”

“No but you didn’t exactly discourage them, did you? Those guys would follow you blindly anywhere Enjolras, _YOU_ know that. Half of them worship you like some sort of bloody god. And did you really prepare them for a group of far right wing fascists and their shit? Did you say anything to warn that poor girl who ended up getting acid thrown in her face?”

It was the one trigger that they both knew would work. Enjolras spun around, turning his back on his brother so he wouldn’t lash out at him, and pushed his hands through his hair as he stepped across the kitchen away from him. When he spoke, he still couldn’t turn back to face Combeferre and his voice faltered. “I’m not talking about that… I _CAN’T_ talk about that.”

“I thought you wanted to get everything out in the open? Come on Enj, we’re talking like you wanted, so tell me, _DID_ you warn that girl before she got her life ruined forever? Before she went through excruciating physical pain like you’ll probably never feel? Before she spent her own fucking prison sentence in a hospital bed?”

Enjolras held in a deep breath as he turned slowly back to face his brother and glared at him across the room. “You fucking evil bastard.”

“ _I’M_ the evil bastard? That’s rich,” Combeferre sneered, throwing his hands up in a show of mock disbelief.

The words and the conviction they were said with were harder to endure than anything up to that point; to see the disgust laid bare in the other man’s eyes and to feel like something he could no longer control had severed them forever was unbearable. Enjolras looked at the brother he loved so deeply and who he had always been able to rely on no matter what and felt like, in some ways at least, he was looking at him for the first time. What was scary to realise was that Combeferre probably thought the same about him in return. Was this the real little brother he had to be tied to? Was this really how he saw him; an extremist who sacrificed others for his own good? It was utterly heart-breaking and Enjolras felt like he’d been punched in the stomach by the effect of it.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” he said quietly as he stepped back into the boots he’d kicked off on the mat before he threw the door open and hurried out into the cold evening air. He was at the bottom of the garden before he realised he didn’t have his coat on and it was snowing again but neither fact encouraged him to turn back as nothing could have made him feel colder inside than he did already at that moment.

*

Enjolras didn’t know exactly where he was walking, he just knew he was walking; putting one foot in front of the other and nothing more, and even that was hard enough when all he really wanted to do was collapse in a heap and cry himself into the blackness. Had he really been naïve enough to believe things with his brother could go back to how they were before? He should have known better. He should have been more honest with himself. And his brother, for his part, shouldn’t have invited him to stay if he didn’t want him there which was now painfully apparent.

Anger was an emotion Enjolras was used to feeling. It spurred many of his decisions on a daily basis and he had got quite good at harnessing it and channelling it into a more useful outlet, such as fighting battles on behalf of others who couldn’t fight alone or couldn’t fight for themselves. He wasn’t sorry about that and he had no inclination to change who he was; not for Ferre, not for anyone. What he was sorry about, however, was the collateral damage of that poor girl on that fateful day and it was something he would be sorry about forever. Sorry wouldn’t change her fate though, nor his involvement in it or the burden of guilt he would have to bear for the rest of his days. Sorry was pretty much as useless to her as it had been to his brother and would probably be welcomed with the same amount of enthusiasm. Or lack thereof.

Was it crazy to think that his brother would be able to empathise with him? His hitherto caring and understanding brother who had often joined him in protests and rallies in his younger days before he had met Courfeyrac and become a father. It was hard to believe that younger version of Combeferre had even existed outside of his imagination now. He had changed with the seasons of life and the way they had shaped him; ok, that was fair enough and good, but had he changed so much that he could no longer see anything from his younger brother’s point of view anymore? Could he really not see how hard all of this had been on him too? The frustration and disappointment was as poignant as the anger and Enjolras walked in fast, long strides with his head down and his hands in his pockets, trying to escape it.

The snow was, thankfully, beginning to settle again but day was turning to dusk at a rapid pace and the air was cooling just as quickly with it. There was no moon visible in the dirty grey sky that was still full of heavy dark clouds but the odd glint of a star peeked through the mist overhead. Enjolras was acutely aware of the fact that he was wearing nothing but a t-shirt, sweats that were still soaked from snow and rubber boots and probably looked completely ridiculous but the self-consciousness he briefly felt was soon overpowered by the intensity of the cold. The bare skin on his arms was actually stinging from it, as was his face, and he couldn’t feel his ears. Picking up the pace of his step didn’t even help to increase the warmth with the flow of his blood; it felt like it had already started to freeze in his veins.

By the time Enjolras had completed a circuit of the nearby field and walked the length of the forest trail and back, the street lights had flickered to life in the darkness and he didn’t think he’d ever been so cold in his entire life. Common sense would tell him to return to his brother’s house – what choice did he really have right now? – and pack his things ready to return home as soon as he’d said his goodbyes and got a ticket for the next train but sense of any kind, common or otherwise, had been frozen out of his confused mind by that point. When he reached the crossroads where the two dirt tracks forked off to each of the secluded houses, he found himself wandering down the wrong one and would always insist that it was a genuine mistake. He was cold and he was upset; he had _NOT_ meant to end up at Grantaire’s house instead of his brothers, not even subconsciously. The mere idea of it was ridiculous…

As he neared the front door, he realised the absurdity of his being there at all and stopped, wanting to turn back… but turn back to what? He couldn’t face returning to his brother’s house, not just yet anyway, and there was nowhere else to go. The sharpness of the cold and fatigue was beginning to make his brain feel too hazy to grab a rational thought and hold onto it. The front door was temptingly close; he need only walk a few more steps and reach out to knock on it; but the deliberation and the tiredness were just too much. Instead, Enjolras got as far as the front wall of the house and sank down onto the floor in front of it, leaning back against the crisp blanket of dead ivy leaves and closing his eyes.

It was either exhaustion of multiple types or giddiness from the relentless cold in his bones and more likely a combination of both, but when Enjolras opened his eyes again a time later and found himself being stared at by the silent and concerned face of Grantaire, he forgot where he was for a moment and had no energy to appear embarrassed when he remembered.

Grantaire was looking down at him and Enjolras gazed up through half closed eyes, trying to focus his blurred vision on the face. “Please leave me alone,” he croaked hoarsely.

“Umm… might I just point out that you’re on my doorstep?” When he received no answer to this, Grantaire added “Are you drunk?”

“No… Wish I was,” said Enjolras and closed his eyes.

There was the faint sound of crunching gravel as Grantaire moved and when Enjolras opened his eyes again, he saw the man had now crouched down in front of him so his face was on the same level. He locked on to the deep brown eyes that were searching him and swallowed hard.

“What’s going on? Why are you here? Are the guys ok?” Grantaire fired questions at Enjolras in a gentle voice and didn’t give him a chance to answer any of them. He scanned a concerned eye up and down over the shivering body on his doorstep and said “Aren’t you freezing?”

“Uh-huh,” was all Enjolras could manage.

“For god’s sake, come inside.”

Somewhere in the back of Enjolras’ hazy mind, he recognised the threat in that offer. Could have been something to do with getting mauled to death by a mad dog, could have been something to do with Grantaire and the fact that the man scared him for some odd reason… he couldn’t quite work out the specifics. “No… M’fine.”

“Yeah, you look fine,” Grantaire said and didn’t wait any longer before he hooked a hand under Enjolras’ arm and pulled him onto his feet.

*


	4. "A World About To Dawn"

The first thing that Enjolras noticed about Grantaire’s house was the overpowering scent of cinnamon and oily paint; a curious combination that made him feel ever so slightly nauseous, particularly given his already giddy state. As the warmth hit him, he felt his legs buckle even more and Grantaire must have noticed it too because he kept hold of the other man’s arm as he guided him into a room where a log fire was crackling beneath a huge brick chimney breast and gently shoved him down onto the sofa that faced it. There was a threadbare multicoloured garish throw draped over the back of it and as Enjolras leaned gratefully back against the sofa cushions, he reached a hand up to grab the material and wrap it around himself. Polite decency in front of this guy who was still little more than a stranger was out of the question now; he was simply too damn freezing cold to care. Finally allowing his body to relax seemed to have an adverse effect; his teeth were chattering and he could see himself visibly shaking.

Grantaire stood in front of him, inadvertently making a barrier of himself between Enjolras and the fire, and observed the scene before him with his hands on his hips and a worried frown on his face. “You don’t look good at all. I’m going to ring your brother-“

“ _NO!_ ” Enjolras shouted with strength he didn’t know he had. “Please… just give me ten minutes to get warm.”

Grantaire didn’t answer that but just marched out of the room, only to return a few minutes later carrying a huge duvet that he draped over the huddled figure of Enjolras, taking extra time and care to tuck it in around him. Enjolras moaned a shaky little sigh as he snuggled down into it and leaned his weight against the support of the cushions. He felt utterly defeated and weak and thankfully too exhausted to be bothered by it. He was even more grateful that he didn’t have enough energy to cry.

“Do you want a hot drink? I could make tea or coffee.”

Enjolras gazed up from his cocoon. “Any brandy?”

“Umm, I think so,” said Grantaire as he stood in front of the sofa looking thoroughly awkward at just being there inside his own house. “Don’t think I’ve got any mixers though.”

“Don’t want them. Neat is perfect. And make it a double too please,” said Enjolras.

Grantaire disappeared again and Enjolras took the brief opportunity to close his eyes. The warmth of the duvet around him was intoxicating and he buried his face against the soft material and took in a long deep exhalation of the musky scent that had been captured in the fibres. He recognised it from the other day; fragrant with subtle undertones of something woody that made him think of a forest full of evergreens. And undeniably Grantaire.

The only sound in the room was the crackling of splitting logs in the fire so when Enjolras opened his eyes and saw Grantaire stood over him again, only this time with a glass in his hand, he was startled into jumping away from the duvet he had been shamelessly sniffing.

“ _FUCK’S SAKE!_ Are you always so quiet?” he exclaimed, as he sat up, pulling his knees to his chest and avoiding the man’s eyes. His face felt more than warm now; he was almost prickling with heat but that was doubtless just the extreme temperatures taking effect at last, he reasoned.

“Are you always so jumpy?” Grantaire asked with a little smirk as he held the glass out for Enjolras to take and then sat down on the rug with his back to the fire, watching quietly as his guest took a long gulp of the liquor. “Better?”

Enjolras cradled his glass and gazed across at Grantaire through the blonde curls that had fluttered down over his forehead as they began to dry. There was a smile on the other man’s face and he couldn’t work out whether it was born of sadistic amusement at his misfortune or, more unfamiliarly and therefore less likely, simply because he _liked_ the man.

He took another swig from his glass before he answered the question. “Much… thanks … Sorry.”

Grantaire shook his head and didn’t take his eyes off his guest once. “No worries. You gonna tell me what’s going on then? And you’re still shaking… do you need… I don’t know, a hug or something?”

“ _NO!_ Don’t touch me!” Enjolras reacted instantly, recoiling at the stirring inside his body that the words provoked as he drew his knees further against his chest and hugged himself protectively. He caught the obvious offense that his action had induced in the other man’s expression and was glad of it. Let him think Enjolras was horrified by the thought of being touched by him; it was easier to deal with than the truth.

“Jesus, calm down. I’m not gonna molest you on my sofa, fucks sake.”

Enjolras didn’t know what to say and so he poured the rest of his drink down his throat in one go to try and drown the unwelcome feelings that were bubbling in his stomach and then offered his glass back to Grantaire. “Can I have another?”

“Like that is it? Must be bad,” said Grantaire as he took the glass back and stared pointlessly into the emptiness of it. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to get wasted tonight?”

Enjolras glared at him. “Who are you, my father?”

“Don’t insult me,” said Grantaire as he dutifully got up and left the room again and Enjolras realised then that this man must have known more than he initially realised about his family.

Grantaire brought the empty glass back but this time had a half full decanter in the other hand and passed them both back to Enjolras with instructions to “help himself.” He was settling himself on the rug again when the muffled sound of a mobile phone ringing drew both their attention. Grantaire fell forward onto his knees so he could extract the phone from his back pocket and when he saw the name on the screen, he announced “It’s your brother,” and hit speakerphone so Combeferre’s voice rang out into the room.

“I’m sorry to ring so late R but I could really use your help if you’re free?”

“What’s up bud?” Grantaire asked, taking care to sound more flippant than the intense eyes watching him were making him feel.

There was a loud sigh that hissed down the line and Combeferre’s voice was broken with badly hidden emotion when he spoke. “Umm… my brother’s gone missing… He doesn’t know the area and he could be fucking anywhere by now… Will you help us look?”

“It’s ok, don’t panic. He’s quite safe. He’s here,” said Grantaire, feeling guilty though he couldn’t quite work out why or to whom his guilt was directed.

“He’s there? _IN YOUR HOUSE?”_ Combeferre demanded, as if the very idea of having to entertain such a notion was ridiculous. “Why is he there?”

“Umm… I dunno. I just found him outside.” More inexplicable guilt.

“Ok, I’m on my way round now.”

At this, Enjolras quietly yet animatedly waved his hands in front of him and mouthed a very determined _NO_ at Grantaire who ran his free hand through his hair as he looked away and said, “No point bud, he’s… err… fallen asleep on the sofa.”

There was a long moment of silence before Combeferre spoke again. “Is he ok?”

“Think so. Just knackered,” Grantaire said and risked a glance back at Enjolras who was now perched on the edge of the sofa, still clutching the empty glass in one hand and the decanter in the other and staring unblinking at him. “He’s fine here. I’ll send him back when he wakes up. Don’t worry.”

Another loud sigh. “I’m sorry R… god knows what you must think of us. Thank you.”

“It’s fine. What are mates for?” Grantaire said and winked at the silent figure on the sofa.

“I owe you,” said Combeferre. “Just ring me back if you… or if he… needs me, yeah?”

Grantaire smiled. “Course.”

“And… R?”

“Yeah?”

“Look after him for me.”

Enjolras sank his head in shame and when he heard the phone call end, he poured himself another glass of brandy and took a swig of it before he leant forward with his elbows on his knees and said, “I don’t need looking after.”

Grantaire shrugged. “Eh. Big brothers. What can you expect? He’s as bad with me and I’m just a mate. So come on then, you need to clue me in a bit now. Why have I just had to lie to Ferre for you?”

“You didn’t have to,” said Enjolras, his eyes on the floor.

Grantaire waited for the man to make eye contact with him again but it became quickly obvious that he wasn’t planning to do anything so reckless and so he sat back on his hands and said, “You’re welcome by the way.”

With a sigh, Enjolras put the decanter on the floor by his feet and used his now free hand to rest his head in. “My brother hates me.”

“Oh my god is that it?” Grantaire laughed and earned himself a glare which he just shook his head at and grinned. “Sorry, but you sound like two teenagers fighting over a boy.”

Enjolras stiffened. “That never happened.”

He didn’t want to recall the memory that came flooding back into his head at that moment; the recollection of himself stood in his bedroom squaring up an eighteen year old Combeferre who had discovered where his Attitude magazines had been disappearing to and was giving his younger brother hell for it. To this day, Enjolras knew that Combeferre still assumed he had stolen them as possible blackmail ammunition against their parents. Not once did his older brother even entertain the alternative – that Enjolras had taken them because he actually wanted them for himself.

Grantaire smiled softly. “Just an assumption. My mistake, sorry.”

There was too much silence and Grantaire’s eyes on him were too intense. Enjolras drank from his glass and refilled it for something to do even though he could already feel the alcohol beginning to take hold and it seemed entirely unwise to become more inebriated. He didn’t drink much at the best of times and now he was knocking back brandy like it was quickly going into short supply. Perhaps coffee would have been a better idea after all.

Eventually, Grantaire spoke again and his voice was painfully gentle. “Your brother doesn’t hate you.”

“I don’t mean to be rude but you don’t know the situation-“

“No, you’re right. I don’t know anything about how you went to prison for your involvement in the May riots at the houses of parliament, or how you’ve only just got out and come here because its safer right now than being at your home seeing as you’ve got a load of pissed off people after you. I also don’t know anything about how Ferre is the sort of guy who would totally blame himself for everything that’s happened because he’s your big brother and he’s supposed to protect you, and I totally would never get how he’s a stubborn fucker who will keep everything bottled up until he’s pushed too hard… which is what I’m guessing has happened tonight. Stop me if I’m wrong about anything so far.”

Enjolras didn’t realise he was staring, open mouthed, at the guy until Grantaire laughed softly and threw him another confident wink that sent an unwelcome rush of heat through Enjolras’ body.

“How… umm, how do you…. Has Ferre been talking about me?”

“Not in the way you’re implying. He had a bit of a breakdown a couple of months ago and I was just in the right place at the right time. Besides, he didn’t need to tell me anything really once I knew you were his brother. It all adds up.”

“Does it now?” Enjolras felt affronted by this friend of his brothers who clearly knew more than it was polite for a next door neighbour to know: about the situation, about their family, and most terrifyingly about himself – a man who he had never met until a few days ago.

“Don’t go getting all insulted. Don’t you talk to your friends about stuff?”

Enjolras thought of the guys and girls back home in London who always turned up for his meetings, who planned rallies and demonstrations with him sometimes into the early hours of the morning when they had families, work and other responsibilities to awake to the following day but never let him down and never once complained. He ached with sadness for his friends in that moment, but had he ever spoken to any of them about anything personal? He didn’t want to have to answer that question; not even to himself.

Suddenly, Grantaire laughed. “You and your brother are more alike than you realise!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you’re both infuriatingly stubborn and moody. And you both give so much away without even realising you’re doing it. It’s like walking round with your heart on your sleeve but its invisible to you, even if it’s not to the rest of us.”

Enjolras said nothing but just stared in transfixed awe at the deep brown eyes that were locked on to his gaze. Inside his rapidly warming body, he could feel a tumultuous storm of emotions rising and turning with gut wrenching vigour and making him want to hurl, although some of that could have been the excessive amount of brandy he’d consumed. Were all of those emotions, all of those thoughts and feelings so easily readable in his expression? He wanted to look away from Grantaire’s searching eyes but he couldn’t bring himself to do it and he didn’t understand why.

The other man said nothing more but got up from the rug and stoked the fire, adding another log to it before he sat down again, this time on the other end of the sofa, his body turned slightly to face Enjolras who glanced across at him and asked, “Is that really true?”

“It’s not a bad thing.”

“Am I really that much of an open book?”

Grantaire shuffled just a fraction closer but it didn’t go unnoticed by Enjolras who pulled the duvet back around his shoulders like some kind of protective armour, despite the fact that he no longer felt anywhere near as cold as he had upon entering the house.

“I don’t know you well enough to answer that but you do seem to have a lot in common with Ferre and he is a totally open book although he’s got no idea, bless him. It’s really quite endearing.”

“So it’s just that we’re both stubborn and moody?”

“And opinionated, and emotional, and always trying to protect others, even if you do it in different ways,” Grantaire said and looked away from Enjolras, resting his gaze upon the fire, before he continued speaking. “And I think there’s probably other things the two of you have in common too.”

Even with the duvet around him (the duvet that still smelled so exasperatingly good) Enjolras felt so suddenly exposed and wished he could get up and run out the door. Perhaps he would have seriously considered it if he could trust his legs to support him. There was also a part of him that didn’t want to run in the opposite direction of this man, however. Quite the opposite, in fact.

And _THAT_ was nothing short of terrifying.

*

When Enjolras awoke, he found himself still in the same position on Grantaire’s sofa, curled up in the corner, hugging his knees to his chest and cocooned in the duvet, only now there was daylight falling over his face and a dog licking his hand. It was testimony to how intense the hangover was that he didn’t immediately shrink back in alarm but in all honesty, it was hard to believe this was the same animal that had attacked him just days earlier. As his eyes fluttered open, he came face to face with the inquisitive gaze of the bright eyed Doberman, who stopped licking the man’s hand and turned her attention instead to his face, making him smile when they were nose to nose and the creature was nuzzling him affectionately.

“Hey girl,” Enjolras grunted sleepily as he raised a hand to rub the dog’s head. “Where’s your master?”

The dog snuffled his face before she lost interest in this stranger on the sofa and wandered off to curl up on the rug in front of the now inactive fireplace. Enjolras sniffed in a deep breath as he drew himself up to a sitting position and felt the first vice like grip of the hangover on his fragile skull. His eye settled on the empty decanter that was laying on its side on the floor. _FUCK._ Surely he hadn’t drank all of that himself? Where was Grantaire anyway?

Random fragments of the previous night were haphazardly trying to rearrange themselves into some sort of legible order in his fuzzy head and Enjolras was beginning to panic because he couldn’t bring them all together in a full pattern. He remembered feeling warm and the taste of brandy that, right now, he never wanted to taste again, and he remembered talking with the man but what they talked about was lost on him. He also remembered the rich deepness of those dark eyes, the way a smile changed his whole face and the effect that both these things had on Enjolras when he witnessed them.

_This wasn’t good._

He didn’t have time or energy to allow distractions to draw him away at the moment, no matter how prettily they were packaged. It was easier to be resolute about that, however, when the man in question wasn’t right there in front of him, stirring up hitherto new and unexplored feelings that Enjolras really didn’t want to have to be brave enough to face right now.

Thankful now that he appeared to be alone in the room, Enjolras stood and searched for his shoes that were, worryingly, at either end of the rug. How had they ended up in that position? There was a bubbling fear inside him about the parts of the night he couldn’t remember. What had he said and, god almighty, _what had he done_? As he wriggled his feet into his shoes, Enjolras tried to calm himself with some attempt at rational thinking, which wasn’t easy in his drink addled brain. If anything significant had happened, he would have remembered that, surely? He must have just drunk too much and passed out. There can’t possibly have been more to it than that…

“Don’t look at me like that,” Enjolras said to the unashamed stare of the dog who was watching him intently from her place in front of the fireplace.

All he would have needed was his underwear stuffed into his pocket and it would have felt like a proper morning after walk of shame as he tiptoed to the front door and let himself quietly out, feeling thoroughly ashamed of himself and not knowing entirely why.

*

He had no idea of the time and the sun was hidden in the cloud-heavy sky but it felt like the daylight, as spare as it was, had been around for a good while. With any luck both Ferre and Courf would be at work, the kids would be at school and the house would be empty – a situation which, had it played out just so, would have been substantially less helpful in reality given that he had marched out last night without his key. As it was, Ferre’s car was still on the drive and Enjolras wasn’t entirely surprised. There was no avoiding him forever; may as well get it over with while he was still languishing in a pit of self-made suffering and unable to sink any lower.

As he made his way through the front door, Enjolras felt painfully aware of the mess that he must have looked, still wearing yesterday’s clothes that had been soaked with muddy snow, frozen and thawed on his body and in need of a good washing as desperately as he did himself by now. He combed his fingers through his hair as he walked along the hallway, feeling horridly like an imposter all of a sudden, and heading towards the kitchen for a badly needed glass of water.

It sounded deceptively silent ahead so Enjolras was stopped in his tracks by surprise when he opened the kitchen door and found his brother in almost exactly the same place as he’d left him the night before, only now he was sat in the chair at the table with his head in his hands. He looked up when Enjolras walked into the room and their eyes met.

“Hey,” was all Enjolras had a chance to say before Combeferre had gotten to his feet and drawn his brother into his arms.

*


	5. "Phantom Shadows On The Floor"

From the distant sounds of Azelma protesting about wearing her winter coat to leave the house, Enjolras judged he had more than enough time to have another cigarette. He felt a twinge of guilt as he grabbed the pack of rizzlers from his top pocket and heard another one of his niece’s high-pitched squeals of protest. Would a good uncle go back inside the house to offer some help to his brother? Enjolras smirked to himself at the thought. A good uncle would visit more than once a year and not get himself thrown in prison, as would a good brother. And moreover, a _WISE MAN_ would recognise that there were still boundaries he had no right to cross and trying to play the doting uncle and brother running to the rescue when he knew nothing about children was likely one of them. Besides, Ferre was a great dad. He didn’t need help to get a stroppy three year old to wear a coat.

Enjolras was quickly learning that there was very little his brother did need help with. He had always been very self-sufficient but having seen him so little in his own habitat with his family, it had escaped Enjolras just how capable his older brother was.

 _“Having kids changes you Enj,”_ he had told him a day earlier when Enjolras had returned and the two brothers had finally had a conversation that, thankfully at last, hadn’t descended into another fight and had actually started to clear the air and bring them closer to some sort of normality in their relationship. _“You need to stop thinking that I don’t still support you just because I’m not following you into battle anymore. I can’t be as reckless now I have a family to consider but that doesn’t mean I don’t admire you and the things you fight for; I just wish you didn’t have to always take it to such extremes.”_

Enjolras not taking a fight to the extreme once he had committed himself to it was as unlikely as Combeferre joining him on the front line with each of his children on either side, waving little placards and spitting profanities at the enemy. It was never going to happen and both of the brothers knew as much.

 _“I have to live my life the way that is right for me Ferre, just as you are doing too.”_ Enjolras had reasoned, feeling closer to his brother than he had in years and (god forgive him) feeling the tiniest trickle of gratitude for his prison sentence if it was what had been needed to get them to this point.

Combeferre had smiled sadly at this and embraced his brother again before he punched him playfully in the arm and said, _“You might feel differently one day when you’re a dad.”_

Enjolras took a long drag on his cigarette as he listened to his brother’s voice from inside the house. It was calmer yet louder than Azelma’s and seemed to be a good indication that this was one battle he was determined to win. Smiling as he brought the cigarette to his lips, Enjolras replayed those words from yesterday in his head for the umpteenth time since Combeferre had spoken them. The prospect of him being a dad – now or ever – was laughable. He wasn’t and never had been the settling down type and had never even been in love. Who had time for that when there were so many causes that deserved his help? He enjoyed a life that, for him, was complete just as it was. There was nothing missing. There was nothing and no one else that he needed or even had time for. And there were certainly no distracting images of Grantaire running through his head alongside these thoughts…

Enjolras shook his head against the unwelcome thoughts but at the same time found himself turning to gaze across the front yard to the line of trees that provided a border between the two houses. He imagined that during the warmer seasons, when the trees were in leaf and everything was green and abundant with growth, they likely obliterated the other house from view but on this winter day, with only spindly branches cobwebbing his view, Enjolras could see it clearly.

He didn’t even realise he had become lost in the pull of his own gaze and unspoken longing until Combeferre’s hand brushed against his arm.

“You ok?” the older brother asked when he saw the unveiled guilt that flushed colour straight into the younger man’s face.

“Yes… Course,” Enjolras stuttered and smiled. “You won then?”

Azelma was stood behind her dad, clinging to his trousers leg with one little hand as she sniffled and buried her face in the material.

Combeferre glanced down at her, then back at his brother and rolled his eyes. “We are going to stop off for milkshakes before we do the shopping now.”

“Oh, is that at the dessert place in the precinct that does cookie dough ice cream boats too?” Enjolras asked purposely, as he leant down to scoop his niece up into his arms. “What do you say Zel, wanna share one? Or can you manage a whole one by yourself now?”

The little girl’s scowl turned into a reluctant grin and she put her arm around her uncle’s neck. “I can eat a whole one but I like it with strawby sauce.”

“Eww, strawberry sauce on cookie dough?” Enjolras teased with a horrified gasp and earned a giggle from his niece as he carried her to the car, glancing back over to wink at his brother who was watching them with a smile.

*

It was the first time in his life that Enjolras was not only willing but happy to participate in the exhausting excursion that was Christmas shopping, which he soon discovered was even more tiring with a three year old in tow. This year it wasn’t so much about negotiating hoards of frantic buyers while scouring one shop after another for ideas and mentally ticking names off a list with each purchase; this year it was more about spending time with his brother, and frankly if he had to walk around every shop in the precinct twice over he would happily do that for quality time with Combeferre.

It was a weekday, which helped, as there were significantly less shoppers around than there would be at the weekends during December. Enjolras felt almost peaceful walking along the precinct floor, carrying bags of shopping, alongside his brother who was holding the hand of Azelma as the little girl toddled along between them.

“What time is it now?” Combeferre asked and Enjolras glanced at his watch before holding out his wrist for inspection. “Nearly half one. Good, we should be able to go back to the jewellers to collect Courf’s gift soon.”

Enjolras smiled at his brother despite the fact that the man was now busy unwrapping a chocolate lolly for his daughter and wasn’t looking at him to notice. Seeing Combeferre so happily settled with his husband and his children was starting to warm Enjolras inwardly in a way he had never expected. How had he never noticed it before? In some ways, it really felt like he was relearning the world around him through a new set of eyes. It was fascinating in a way he never would have expected.

“He is a lucky guy. You have really spoiled him this year,” said Enjolras, thinking of the Armani watch he had been shown a couple of hours ago in the jewellers before Combeferre had handed over his bank card and instructions for the engraving that was to go on the back of the face.

Combeferre shrugged. “He deserves it. I haven’t been easy to live with lately.”

Yet another sorry was on the tip of Enjolras’ tongue because he knew that like many other issues in Combeferre’s life recently, he was the one to blame for it, but it had quickly got to the point where the word was losing its meaning from being dangerously overused in the last few days. He swallowed this one back and chose what he hoped would be just as caring a response. “That guy loves you more than anything in the world. It’s so obvious. I think he would die for you if he had to. Must be amazing to be loved like that.”

The expression on Combeferre’s face was enough but as if to emphasise the surprise, he caught his brother’s eye and grinned. “Wow!”

Enjolras laughed nervously. “What?”

“Nothing, just amazes me that after all this time you can still surprise me. I thought you weren’t interested in love?”

Enjolras looked straight ahead and swallowed. “I’m not.”

“Clearly.”

They walked in silence for a while with only Azelma’s random chatter to mask the unspoken words and the unnerving thoughts that were trying to push their way into Enjolras’ mind; he didn’t feel comfortable at all with the path they were trying to lead him down. Grantaire’s words from the other night came back to haunt him once again: _you give so much away without even realising you’re doing it._

Was he doing it now? Was it obvious that he was suddenly picturing himself in scenarios he had never before given the slightest amount of credence to? The more he tried to shoo the images out of his head, the more vividly they fought back like a scary yet fascinating movie reel playing through his mind; himself buying Christmas presents for a significant other, going home to an actual person awaiting him with a loving embrace, the way it might feel to end the day in the arms of someone who loved him, how it might sound to hear his name spoken with desire, how it could feel to be undressed by someone who set his body on fire with the merest touch… How that last thought instantly conjured up a mental image of Grantaire and made Enjolras feel exposed and guilty.

It was ridiculous, of course. Combeferre had no idea of the thoughts that were running through his mind and wouldn’t have believed them if he did. Still, Enjolras couldn’t shake the feeling he was being watched. So much so that he glanced around a couple of times as they walked, feeling like there were eyes he couldn’t place observing his every move, his every thought, his every feeling. The unnecessary guilty conscience was making him crazily paranoid.

“Is there anywhere else you wanna go?” Combeferre asked as they left the jewellers shortly afterwards, one extra bag added to the collection, albeit a small one.

Enjolras looked pointedly at the multiple bags in each of his hands and back at his brother with raised eyebrows. “The pub?”

Combeferre laughed. “You’re such a shopping virgin! Good job Gav and Courf aren’t with us, they’d have you in every game shop we pass.”

“Yeah but we’d also have two extra pairs of hands,” Enjolras noted with a smirk. “Is there anywhere around here that sells alcohol?”

“You’re serious?”

“I don’t mean a pub. I mean somewhere I can buy a bottle of brandy.”

Combeferre frowned. “Shopping with me that stressful is it?”

Again, Enjolras looked away. It was too risky to look in his brother’s eyes now he knew what an open book he apparently was. “It’s not for me.”

*

Azelma was asleep in her car seat by the time Combeferre had driven out of the car park and when he pointed out as much to his brother, Enjolras turned his head to look back at her and laughed quietly.

“I know how she feels!” he exclaimed, leaning back into his seat with a satisfied sigh.

“Just wait until we have to do the Santa shop when they’re both at school,” Combeferre said, automatically lowering his voice even more despite the fact that his daughter was sleeping so soundly behind them. “Zel keeps going on about this damn ride-on pony thing they have at nursery and Gav wants a Scalextric.”

“Really? Didn’t you have one of those when we were kids? Can you even still get them?”

Combeferre shot him a look of indignation at the blatant insult. “Hey, I’m not that much older than you, thank you very much.” Then he looked back at the road and added quietly, “You can get them in retro shops.”

Enjolras laughed. “I rest my case!”

“Shut the hell up before I make you get out and walk.”

“It’s ok, I’m a runner, remember? I’d probably be home before you,” said Enjolras, smiling easily as he watched the grin tug at the corner of his brother’s mouth. He was enjoying the banter, it had been a long time coming.

“Unless you end up at the wrong house again,” said Combeferre pointedly, animating the words with one raised eyebrow as he glanced across at Enjolras. It was the look he had always given him when he knew there was something his brother was hiding and sure enough, the way his face flushed with heat just proved it to be true.

A swarm of hazy memories instantly crowded Enjolras’ brain as he looked away from his brother’s piercing gaze and stared at the road ahead. He still couldn’t remember everything and that still scared the hell out of him. Logically, he knew nothing untoward could have happened but although he couldn’t recall much, he was certain now that he could feel the sexual tension that he had assumed was just his imagination at the time. Maybe the shock of the night had just got to him but it felt like Grantaire had been flirting with him. Had he flirted back? Had he given any indication that he wanted to? Not knowing was driving him slowly crazy. At no point in his entire life had anyone ever made him want to waste time with something as futile as flirting before.

“How does he afford that house by himself?” Enjolras asked not only because he’d been wondering it since the other day but because he knew that if he changed the subject too harshly, he would only succeed in making his guilt even more obvious, and he was determined to do something about this open book affliction he was apparently cursed with. “He can’t earn much on the wage of a young artist.”

“He’s not that young. 25, I think.”

 _Two years younger._ Enjolras found himself doing the calculation before he could stop himself. As if it mattered to know the age difference between the two of them. As if the answer held some sort of significance. _Fuck’s sake Enj._

“Still, it’s a big place to keep going on the wage of a penniless artist.”

“Who said he was penniless? Don’t be fooled by the long messy hair and hippy clothes. He might play the part of struggling bohemian dreamer really well but he’s not some sort of stoner who lives off loud music and weed.”

“I never thought he was,” Enjolras shot back, reacting instinctively and hating himself for it.

“He works as a freelance graphic designer. Don’t think it’s a case of living the dream exactly but an artist’s still gotta pay the bills. Pays a good wage, I believe. Anyway, he didn’t buy the house. It was left to him when his grandmother died a few years back. She was a lovely lady. Always baking pies and things for Courf and I. Think she assumed two guys alone would starve without a woman to take care of them. And she was a great help when we first got Gav. I still miss her.”

Enjolras listened quietly but his mind was already starting to wander again and not even to anything remotely relevant to the words his brother was speaking. The slightest reference to Grantaire and his mind was conjuring up unwanted yet enticing images of the man once again. Out of nowhere he found himself wondering what it would feel like to run his fingers through that dark messy hair. _Jesus Christ, what the hell was happening to him?_

“--- would have been lost without her.” Combeferre finished speaking and when he was met with silence, he frowned at his brother. “Enj? Are you listening to me?”

“Huh?” From the passenger seat, Enjolras forced his eyes to meet Combeferre’s and smiled shyly. “Oh… umm, yes… course. Lovely lady. Baked a lot of pies.”

Combeferre shook his head and smirked. “You’re a shit liar. What’s on your mind? And don’t say nothing because I know something’s bugging you.”

_“You give so much away without even realising you’re doing it. It’s like walking around with your heart on your sleeve but it’s invisible to you, even if it’s not to the rest of us.”_

Enjolras considered it for less than a second before he forced himself to laugh. “Suspicious mind bro! I’m fine.”

“I don’t believe you for one second but you’re allowed your secrets,” said Combeferre, sounding every bit the older and wiser brother. “Just please don’t be planning anything radical until after Christmas. I don’t think I can take it for a while.”

Did fantasising about the next door neighbour count as radical? Probably not to someone who knew what it was like to fantasise in general. When the person doing the fantasising was Enjolras? That was a different matter entirely.

*

By the time they arrived home, the sky had become heavy with dark grey clouds and there was the threat of a storm brewing in the restless evening air. The snow from earlier in the week hadn’t lasted and the picturesque magical winter that had excited the children so fleetingly had been replaced by a harsher seasonal environment. Despite the fact that the day was only just beginning to ease into evening as Combeferre pulled the car to a stop on the driveway, the darkness of a winter night was already closing in and they could see from the lights in the house that Courfeyrac and Gavroche had beaten them home.

“I thought Gav had hockey after school tonight?” Enjolras remembered as he helped his brother unload the bags from the boot of the car.

“He was supposed to. Most likely got called off because of the weather. He’s going to be an absolute delight tonight in that case,” Combeferre said dryly and Enjolras laughed as he slammed the boot shut and made his way into the house, leaving his brother to the task of removing a sleeping Azelma from her car seat.

Enjolras found the boys in the lounge, sat side by side on the couch with game controllers in their hands and an open bag of crisps between them. They both looked up when he entered the room, still carrying armfuls of shopping bags.

“Successful trip?” Courfeyrac asked with an amused grin as Gavroche quickly swallowed the mouthful of crisps he was crunching and jumped up off the couch to peer his nose into the tops of the bags.

“What you buy?” the young boy asked as he leaned further into the nearest bag and got a face full of fleece from a sweater Combeferre had brought as a gift for a friend.

“Nothing for you if that’s what your wondering,” Enjolras said as he tousled the boy’s hair affectionately and threw him a wink. “What happened to hockey?”

“Nearly half the team are sick with flu so the coach cancelled, what with the bad weather and all,” said Courfeyrac as his son lost interest in the shopping investigation and took his seat next to him on the sofa again, picking up his controller and stuffing another handful of crisps into his mouth.

“Hence the father son gaming session?” Enjolras guessed.

“Got it in one. Where’s Ferre?”

“Getting Zel out of the car. She fell asleep almost as soon as we put her back in it.”

Courfeyrac nodded knowingly and then lowered his voice a little when he next spoke. “Everything ok?”

Enjolras answered with a discreet thumbs up and smiled warmly at his brother in law because he knew exactly what he meant with the question. It was eternally endearing how much Courfeyrac cared about the relationship his husband had with his younger brother but, in all fairness, some of that concern was likely driven by how much easier _HIS_ life was when they were getting on well.

The two men fell back into a clandestine silence as Combeferre walked into the room, carrying his half asleep daughter who’s head was nestled against his neck, only just visible from the cosy insulation of the winter coat she didn’t want to wear.

“Why is there a bag of firewood near the front door?” Combeferre asked.

“One of us needs to take it next door now you’re home. R phoned and said his heating has gone kaput again and he needs extra to keep the fire going through the night, poor guy. I told him to just come round here but you know what he’s like at accepting help.”

“Ha! Aint that the truth. Stubborn ass reminds me of someone else we know,” said Combeferre as both he and his husband looked in unison to the other man in the room who was still stood amid the piles of shopping bags, observing them both in turn with wide eyes.

“What?” Enjolras asked innocently and made them both snigger in response.

“I’ll finish this game with Gav and then run it round,” said Courfeyrac, leaning into the couch cushions and moving his attention back to the television screen.

“No need,” said Enjolras, feeling the heat of his brother’s stare on him but avoiding it at all costs as he busied himself doing up the zip of his coat. “I’ll take it.”

He didn’t need to look round to know Combeferre was watching him with quiet suspicion as he left the room.

*


	6. "Voices Soft As Thunder"

There was a light on over the front porch and the door was slightly ajar when Enjolras arrived at it. He stood on the step and pressed his palm to the door where it moved ever so slightly before changing his mind and curling his fingers into a fist to knock against it instead. There was no answer or movement in return and he forced himself to wait another long few seconds and ignore the fluttering feeling in his stomach before he tried again, this time earning a muffled response from somewhere inside. “Door’s open Courf.”

He didn’t realise he was holding his breath until he walked into the front room, saw Grantaire kneeling down in front of the fire engrossed in lighting a row of candles, and let it out in a long trembling burst of air that drew the other man’s attention.

“Oh… it’s you,” Grantaire noted with not even a trace of enthusiasm in his voice; a fact which instantly made Enjolras want to shrink into himself and disappear. “Thought Courf was bringing it.”

“Umm… he was busy with Gav.” Enjolras put the bag of firewood down on the floor and forgot he was holding the recently purchased bottle of brandy in the other hand until he realised Grantaire was eyeing it with intrigue. “Oh! Yeah, this is to replace the one I kind of stole the other night.”

“Kind of?”

“Yeah, ok,” said Enjolras coyly as he walked close enough to place the bottle down on the side table and then stepped away again and stared at it because it was easier than looking at Grantaire and, at that very moment, was also more appealing too. The warmness that had been so easily offered on his last visit was most definitely lacking from this one. He hadn’t expected the man to start flirting with him as soon as he showed up ( _imagined_ it, perhaps, but not e _xpected_ it) but he also hadn’t expected to feel so unwanted either.

“Well… thanks, I guess,” said Grantaire with a half-hearted smile before he turned his attention back to the candles, shaking a fresh match from the box he was holding and striking it.

“That will take you forever. Don’t you have a lighter?”

“It’s run out of juice.”

“Couldn’t you just use the fire?”

At this Grantaire looked back at him with knitted brows. “I wanna light them, not melt them.”

Enjolras wanted to enquire as to why he was even bothering lighting candles when he was sat right in front of a blazing fire that didn’t appear to even need the extra fuel he had brought round for it. He also wanted to ask what he had done to deserve such a frosty reception but neither of these questions seemed wise. Instead, he walked silently over to Grantaire and crouched down beside him as he took his lighter from his pocket and took over lighting the remaining candles.

“Thanks,” Grantaire said, without looking at him. “You’d be surprised how much warmth they give.”

“Is that where the smell of cinnamon is coming from?” The scent memory from the other night hit Enjolras with a headiness that made him want to swoon. He was glad that Grantaire wasn’t trying to make eye contact with him right then. “I noticed it the other night too.”

“I like candles,” said Grantaire with a shrug. “You probably think that’s really lame.”

“Course not. Why would I think that?”

“Just a feeling. You don’t seem the type of guy to be into scented candles and stuff. And I’m usually good at reading people.”

Enjolras sniffed in a deep breath as he concentrated a little harder than necessary on lighting the last candle, so much so that his thumb was starting to burn on the heat of the metal and he didn’t think to let go. “I’m not gonna argue with that… I mean, you seemed to be fairly right on the money the other night.”

When his words made Grantaire look up at him, he panicked. _Fuck, was that too obvious? Was it not obvious enough? Was he making a complete and utter idiot of himself? Why did this have to be so fucking hard?_

“You remember that then?”

This made Enjolras panic even more because he could still remember so little and had absolutely no idea to what specific part Grantaire was referring. “I remember… some.” When Grantaire responded with nothing more revealing than a long and silent stare, Enjolras swallowed nervously and added “I’m sorry… if I did or said anything that I… probably shouldn’t have.”

A hint of a grin was starting to soften Grantaire’s expression. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. I can’t fucking remember, hence the apology,” said Enjolras with a frustrated sigh. “Jesus, do you have to be so difficult?”

Grantaire just laughed as he leant across Enjolras to grab the candles nearest to him. It was the briefest of moments but as reached over, his hair tickled the other man’s arm and the faintest smell of that intoxicating scent he wore drifted up and overpowered the cinnamon, along with all of Enjolras’ other senses in that moment. _Oh god, that smell…_

“ _YOU’RE_ accusing _ME_ of being difficult?” Grantaire asked emphatically as he sat back on his heels and observed the obvious discomfort in the face of the man who was trying so hard not to stare back at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean? How have I been difficult?” It was a genuine question and Enjolras was panicking slightly over not knowing the answer but the frustration at only receiving an amused shake of the head instead of actual words in response was even worse than the initial fear. He could feel his blood beginning to heat up with rage and perhaps some of that was directed at himself but at least a good percentage of it was reserved solely for the infuriating man in front of him right then.

“You don’t need to look so terrified,” Grantaire said coolly. “Relax, yeah? You didn’t do anything you need to be embarrassed by. Anyway, I enjoyed the naked lap dance and being called sweetheart.”

Even the tell-tale wink that accompanied these words didn’t resolutely convince Enjolras that it was a joke and once again, he felt another rush of heat that couldn’t be blamed on rage this time. Goddamn that knowing sexy wink that had such an unprecedented effect on him! What the hell was going on when another human being could control his body with one brief movement of their eye? What the hell was that about?

“Ha bloody ha,” Enjolras said, trying to sound more nonchalant than he felt. He was glad when Grantaire moved away from him but he still couldn’t resist watching the other man from the corner of his eye as he took two candles to the table and exchanged them for the laptop that was waiting there, falling down into the corner of the sofa as he rested it on his knees and opened the screen. Enjolras was still knelt down in front of the fire, trying to decide where it was acceptable to rest his gaze as Grantaire switched on the laptop, settled back against the cushions and ignored him completely. There couldn’t have been a more obvious sign of dismissal and it wasn’t lost on Enjolras, yet he still hadn’t moved and the more long silent seconds that passed, the more difficult he found it to do so.

“If you wanna be sorry about anything, I’d go with the way you fucked off the next morning without a word,” said Grantaire eventually without looking up from his laptop.

Enjolras got to his feet in a vague attempt to feel less small than he was already feeling now but even a height advantage over the other man did nothing to appease his chagrin.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to seem ungrateful.”

“It’s not that,” said Grantaire and in just a few words his resolve seemed to have slipped but he righted himself quickly with a hefty sigh. “No worries, ok? Just forget it.”

Enjolras wasn’t sure what it was that he was supposed to be forgetting but he was sure that he had overstayed his welcome on more than one occasion now.

“Umm… The guys told me to tell you that you’re welcome to come round if you get too cold.”

Still, Grantaire didn’t look up and he was tapping away at the keys distractedly when he replied. “Tell them thanks but I’ll be fine. Got someone coming out to fix the heating tomorrow.” After a moment of Enjolras still stood like a statue in front of the fireplace, Grantaire finally moved his gaze to meet the man’s eyes. “I don’t mean to sound rude but I really have to get this work done tonight, so….”

It felt pointless to say anything considering he didn’t seem able to without causing offence of late so Enjolras just nodded his understanding and began to retrace his steps across the room, pausing on the way past Grantaire to place his lighter on the table beside him.

“Just in case you need it again,” he said and made his way to the door without looking back.

*

One thing that could be said for Enjolras’ niece and nephew, it was impossible to be in a bad mood around them. Azelma was a little ball of endless energy most of the time until she burnt out her toddler battery and passed through the thankfully brief stage of raging monster before she turned back into a sleeping angel; all phases equally as lovable when able to be observed from a distance, Enjolras discovered. Gavroche was negotiating the beginnings of his journey through preadolescence and seemed to be trying to figure out how far he could push the boundaries with his dads. There were times when every little thing appeared to irritate him and send him into sulky teenager mode, yet there were also times when he would spend ages happily playing games with his sister or practising his hockey in the garden with Combeferre, and there seemed to be few things he enjoyed more than hanging out with Courfeyrac in the kitchen helping him cook dinner while singing along to music. Enjolras loved being around them both, especially as he could enjoy being Uncle without any of the additional stress that his brothers had as parents. Watching how good the two men were with their children was heart-warming, particularly when Enjolras drew comparisons to the childhood he and Combeferre had experienced with their parents which was vastly less pleasant.

Of course, they weren’t perfect and Enjolras was starting to see why Grantaire had said that he and his brother were so alike in their stubbornness and inclination for mood swings. There was a certain volatility about Ferre that Enjolras knew he shared, and he could see how Gavroche was already learning which buttons to press when he was in a particularly antagonistic mood. Courfeyrac was altogether a lot calmer than anyone else in the house and they all seemed to appreciate him for that, yet there were times when he became evidently tired of having to continuously play the resident peacekeeper and took himself off for a long bath or a walk to a friends house to offload his troubles to a sympathetic ear. When Courf needed a break, they all knew it was bad.

Some days, however, they all just seemed to come together and work perfectly as a little family group and it was a delight to not only witness that but to be a part of it too, if only for a short time. When Enjolras got back from Grantaire’s house feeling thoroughly miserable and a blissfully unaware Gavroche grabbed his arm excitedly to pull him through to the kitchen where he and Combeferre were busy making Christmas cookies, he felt instantly lifted.

“We saved you some of the cookie dough,” the boy announced as he led the way into the kitchen, looking back over his shoulder at Enjolras who was following dutifully and laughing at the smudge of flour on Gavroche’s cheek. “And Dad says that when they’ve cooled you can help us decorate them so you need to decide what ones you want. I’m gonna do the trees but there’s extra snowmen so you can have those ones. And tomorrow we’re gonna put the Christmas tree up so you gotta help with that too but you can’t put the star on the top cuz it’s Zel’s turn this year.”

Enjolras listened with a smile to his hyperactive nephew and mentally reassessed his priorities. There would be no spending the night and the weekend ahead brooding over a man he had foolishly let himself become curious about. Clearly he had too much time on his hands up here away from home, work and all his other responsibilities! It was about time he put his time and energy here to better use.

*

As far as good intentions went, it started out well and the next morning, when Enjolras was sent out with Courfeyrac on an emergency dash to the shops to get replacement fairy lights for the tree, he was finally starting to feel like himself again, which was a welcome change after the last few days. Listening to Courfeyrac grumbling all the way there and back about how _if Ferre had just packed them away properly last year like he thought he had, they wouldn’t be having to make this trip anyway but yes, they may as well stop off at the drive-through Starbucks on the way home_ , Enjolras laughed a lot and felt positively carefree again. It was a strange sensation but not an unpleasant one.

Combeferre had been left at home to contain the two excitable children who were killing time rooting through the box of decorations as their Dad moved furniture around to accommodate a big enough space for the tree they had brought this year. When Enjolras and Courfeyrac walked back into the house carrying the new lights and a tray of takeaway drinks and snacks, they were met with a scene of happy chaos and it was so extreme that it wasn’t immediately obvious that an extra body had been added in their absence.

“Will you two stop playing with that damn tinsel please? We’re not going to have any left in good enough nick to put on the tree at this rate,” Combeferre chastised from his place leant over the TV cabinet, where he was plugging extension cords in ready.

It took Enjolras a few seconds before he noticed that Azelma was stood next to her Dad, trying to crane her neck over the top of the cabinet to see what he was doing behind it and obviously not one half of the ‘you two’ to whom Ferre was referring. Courfeyrac noticed before he did, tutting in exaggerated disdain as he looked over at where his son was stood next to the box of decorations, trying to mould a mountain of tinsel on top of it.

“If I knew you were going to be here, I’d have bought extra Starbucks,” said Courfeyrac.

Enjolras frowned as the tinsel under Gavroche’s hands started erupting like a glittery volcano and Grantaire suddenly stood up from where he had been squatting down into the box with tinsel in his hair, making the boy cackle with laughter.

“See! Told you I could fit in there!” Grantaire laughed before he acknowledged Courfeyrac and Enjolras with a smile. “Hey! Did I hear Starbucks?”

“You can have mine. I’m not going out again,” said Courfeyrac as he shrugged his coat off and leant down to kiss the top of Azelma’s head as she ran over to him.

“Uncle Enj, guess what? Uncle R is staying with us tonight cuz his house isn’t on fire,” Azelma announced excitedly.

“Near enough Zel,” Grantaire said with a laugh and then turned to Courfeyrac and brought his hands together in a praying action. “Ferre said it’s ok but do you mind Courf? I can’t get the heating fixed until tomorrow now and I don’t think I can take another night freezing my ass off in that house.”

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Courfeyrac said with a roll of his eyes. “You know you’re always welcome here. Where’s Missy?”

“In the garden, out the way, so she doesn’t chew any more plastic elves,” Grantaire informed guiltily and Enjolras realised he was talking about the dog who, up until this point, he still hadn’t known the name of. It was only now that Grantaire finally acknowledged him and caught his eye with a smile that was significantly warmer than any he had graced him with last night.

Enjolras smiled back because he had no choice but he didn’t want to. It wasn’t his decision, of course, but he didn’t want Grantaire here in the house with his family, intruding into his life, and getting too close to them; too close to him. He had only just started relaxing today and now it was all turned upside down again.

“I’m going outside for a smoke,” he announced, passing the tray of cups into Courfeyrac’s hands as he went.

As if to add insult to injury, as soon as Enjolras opened the door of the kitchen and walked into the garden, the dog started barking as she bounded up to him but on this occasion, she seemed to recognise him as she approached, wagging her tail furiously. He reached down to placate her with a rub of her ears before he started rolling a cigarette and she lost interest, resuming her sniffing of the withered border plants. He had barely enough time to finish forming the cigarette before the door opened again and Grantaire appeared, brandishing the lighter Enjolras had left behind last night.

“Thought you might need this,” he said, clicking it into life and cupping a hand around the flame to protect it as Enjolras leant close enough to catch the end of the cigarette that was now trapped between his lips.

As Enjolras moved away again, turning his face to blow a breath of smoke in the opposite direction, Grantaire closed the kitchen door behind them and leant against it, muffling the sound of the raucous in the house and bringing down a cloak of silence over the two of them. Enjolras was glad he had his cigarette to smoke for something to do but he kept his eyes away from Grantaire, hoping he could emulate the same message with his actions that he had received from the man last night. _I came out here for peace. I don’t mean to be rude but…_

“I’m sorry I was a bit of an ass last night,” Grantaire said, staring shamelessly at Enjolras with such determination that he eventually earned the briefest moment of eye contact. “Was having a day of it and just in a bit of a funk, you know? Wasn’t really your fault.”

“You were right though,” said Enjolras before he could stop himself. “I shouldn’t have just taken off the other morning like I did. That was shitty of me. I’m sorry.”

Grantaire watched him for a moment before he started grinning. “You realise that if anyone heard this conversation they would probably think you did a runner after a night of illicit passion?”

And there it was. That damn wink again. Enjolras looked away and took a deep drag on his cigarette, cursing himself for being so weak and easily manipulated. He had never before felt like he didn’t have control over his own body and that was scary.

“Your dog doesn’t want to attack me anymore,” he said in a weak attempt to change the subject. When Grantaire was silent in response, Enjolras risked a look at him and discovered he was still staring right at him with the same grin on his face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“With that… smile.”

The grin on Grantaire’s face softened and made him look so beautiful that Enjolras took an involuntary step closer to the man before he even realised that he was doing it. He quickly looked down at his feet and shuffled nervously on the spot.

“You make me smile,” Grantaire said and Enjolras could hear that very smile in his voice. “And I like looking at you.”

Enjolras stared at him. “No one’s ever said anything like that to me before.”

“Really?” Grantaire asked and sounded genuinely shocked. “Wow, you must have encountered a lot of blind or stupid people.”

It was the weirdest compliment Enjolras had ever received and he didn’t know how to take it. He took another drag on his cigarette but as he was doing so, Grantaire moved closer to him and plucked it from his lips, brushing his fingertips against them as he did so, and he said nothing but kept his eyes trained on Enjolras’ as he moved it to his own mouth and took a deep inhalation, breathing it out a moment later with a little moan. It was the most provocative thing Enjolras had ever witnessed in his life and his hands were actually pulsing with the urge to reach out and touch him when the kitchen door suddenly swung open and Gavroche came tumbling out, trailing a length of bright red tinsel around his neck.

“Will you two hurry up? Dad says we can’t start decorating until you’re back.”

Enjolras didn’t know which one of his dads Gavroche was referring to but whoever it was had just fallen right out of his favour.

*


	7. "Will You Take Your Place With Me?"

What started out as decorating the tree ended up as decorating the entire house and, in the case of the children, themselves. As the afternoon stretched into evening, the downstairs rooms became substantially more festive and a lot less tidy but not even Combeferre with his predisposition for organisation was bothered by the mess. And despite his earlier protestations, Courfeyrac still managed to be persuaded out on another car journey back into town, this time to get more tinsel as most of the original supply ended up shredded over the floor after it was used for tug of war games and dressing up. It became impossible to move through any of the downstairs reception rooms without attracting random coloured glittery strands to clothes and hair. At some point, someone had started playing Christmas music though no one confessed to it and no one turned it off so by the time the album was on its third playback, it had become the unofficial background music to the day. Enjolras was the only one who point blank refused to sing along to any song and had to wear the black Santa hat with _Scrooge_ embroidered on the front, which he then refused to take off because Grantaire said it suited him (with yet another trademark wink).

The cookies that had been so lovingly made the night before were slowly devoured throughout the course of the afternoon, crumbs joining glitter and pine needles on the carpet, and by the time darkness fell and the newly adorned lights started really taking effect, Combeferre rang for a pizza delivery because neither he or his husband had any energy left to cook. However, by the time it arrived, Azelma had already fallen asleep in the recently emptied decorations box which she had decided to make into a festive den with the help of Grantaire and his artistic skills, and the music had been switched off in favour of the tv which Gavroche was now glued to. There was a general atmosphere of happy exhaustion throughout the house, and even Missy was stretched out asleep on her side in front of the TV with her newly tinselled up collar sparking around her neck.

From his place at the top of the step ladder in the hallway, Enjolras turned the top half of his body at the sound of the doorbell and wobbled precariously, having to reach out a hand to steady himself on the stair banister.

“Fuck’s sake, be careful!” Grantaire exclaimed from his place on the floor below where he was holding the ladder in place. Enjolras threw a wide-eyed grin down to him and he laughed. “You realise that’s probably gonna be left up there until next Christmas now, right?”

Enjolras looked up at the homemade snowflake decoration Azelma had spent a good hour making with him that he was pinning up to the ceiling and then down at Grantaire with a carefree shrug. “Ehh. There’s enough of Zel’s artwork stuck up in the kitchen. They can just say this is her latest masterpiece.”

“Which it is.”

“Hey, I did the cutting and measuring. And some of the glitter too,” said Enjolras with exaggerated pride that made Grantaire shake his head at him with an amused smirk. “So don’t think you’re the only talented artist around here, yeah?”

“Oh I have no doubt that you have many talents,” said Grantaire and earned himself a shy smile which was the most Enjolras dared risk at that moment in time. “But is art one of them? I think I could teach you a few things… about art, obviously.”

Enjolras wanted to fire something equally flirtatious back but before he could conjure up any words, he heard movement behind them and turned his head to see Combeferre stood in the doorway with a pizza box in his arms and a quiet suspicion on his face.

“You two joining us for pizza?” he asked, narrowing his eyes as he caught the obvious panic in his brother’s expression and tried to hold his gaze with the unanswered question he knew was evident in his own.

Enjolras laughed a little too nervously. “Course we are! I’m starving. I got one damn cookie earlier and even that was the smallest one.”

Combeferre sucked in a breath through pursed lips before he gave a very pointed look to his brother and said “I’m gonna go before R makes any inappropriate comments about size not mattering.”

At the same time as Combeferre left, Enjolras made his way down the ladder until his feet were on the floor and he was back at eye level with Grantaire again who was smiling softly at him. “Ferre’s gone into protective big brother mode then.”

“Sure he’s just joking,” said Enjolras which even he knew was a lie.

*

Pizza was less enjoyable after that as Enjolras could feel his brother’s eyes on him the whole time and what with that and being so close to Grantaire, he was quickly losing his appetite. Azelma had woken up and was curled up in Courfeyrac’s lap, picking the cheese off the top of her slice, and Gavroche was involved in a frenzied debate with Grantaire about which console game they should play after they had finished eating. Combeferre sat one end of the sofa with his feet up on the beanbag stool and watched Enjolras across the room as he pulled the crust off a slice with far too much delicacy and attention.

Enjolras knew he was being watched and he knew if he looked up at his brother, too much would be given away. Particularly with his recently diagnosed open book syndrome. He waited until Combeferre eventually started talking to his husband and then used the opportunity to sneak outside for a cigarette while he cleared the rubbish away. However, he had only got as far as the kitchen and picked up his pouch of tobacco off the windowsill when Combeferre followed him into the room and shut the door.

“What’s going on bro?”

Enjolras frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“Come on Enj, I’m not blind.” He waited for a reply and when one never came, added, “What’s going on with you and R?”

“What? Nothing,” Enjolras answered quickly and felt confident doing so because it was just about true. Save a bit of harmless flirting, of course. Combeferre didn’t need to know and wouldn’t be finding out about the true extent of the feelings Enjolras had for Grantaire; not when he had yet to find his own peace with them.

“Don’t forget I know you both very well.”

It sounded like a warning but Enjolras laughed it off as he started bagging up the armful of rubbish he was still carrying, grateful for the distraction. “Relax Ferre. It’s just banter. Don’t you want me to get on with your mates?”

“Get on with them? Yes. Fuck them? No.”

“What? I didn’t even… I mean, the thought never crossed… _why not_?”

Combeferre fixed him with a wide eyed, raised brow stare. “So you are thinking about it then?”

Enjolras realised his mistake too late and shook his head frustratedly. “Fuck’s sake, I never said that and I will keep my hands to myself, so you don’t have to worry, ok? I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise your friendship-“

“You think that’s what I’m worried about? Enj, you could screw every one of my mates if it made you happy. You’re a grown man and so is he and it’s none of my business. I just… I worry about you both. I don’t want two broken hearts to deal with when you have to go home.”

It was the first time the thought had even occurred to Enjolras. It was also the first time that the thought of going home made him feel so panicked and it had nothing to do with the fresh collection of hate mail he knew would be waiting on his doorstep.

“Like I said… nothing to worry about,” Enjolras repeated and it was impossible to keep the twinge of sadness from his voice.

Thankfully, Combeferre let the subject drop but it stayed in Enjolras’ mind for the rest of the evening and he couldn’t help but feel that he was starting to play with fire in a way he had never done before. Which, for him, was no small feat.

*

It was gone midnight before everyone started getting tired, with the exception of Azelma who had been fast asleep for hours and Gavroche who had reluctantly said his goodnights and gone to bed by ten o’clock. Combeferre and Courfeyrac were entwined on the sofa watching an old black and white movie by just the glow of the Christmas tree lights and Grantaire was folded into the armchair opposite waiting for his temporary bed to be vacated while he drank a beer and tried to lose himself in the film. It was pointless, of course, as all he could think of was the only missing member of their party who was currently upstairs in the shower, apparently getting rid of the glitter that was _‘itching the hell out of him.’_

In reality, it took mere moments to get clean and glitter free but Enjolras lingered in the shower, enjoying the chance for some time alone with his thoughts, even though they weren’t particularly pleasant ones right then. He didn’t like the way his life felt like it was spiralling out of control into unknown territory which he didn’t know how to navigate. Courting drama and danger wasn’t unfamiliar to him and didn’t ordinarily faze him, but that was because it usually came in the form of campaigns, rallies and protests and, occasionally, running into battle with opposing sides or, when things escalated, the police. He had spent several random nights in a jail cell, even before the recent six month stretch, and he had both won and lost several fights, with and without violence. He could fight and he could win and he could always find the strength to rise again on the occasions when he didn’t. It was what he did and it was all he knew and, up until now, all he had wanted.

And then Grantaire had somehow found a way to sneak into his life and throw everything into disarray. Enjolras now had to admit to himself that he didn’t want to go home although perhaps that was an exaggeration; it wasn’t that he didn’t want to go home, he just didn’t want to leave his family and Grantaire, who was quickly seeming like one of his family anyhow.

After he had finally dragged himself out of the shower, dried off and dressed in clean clothes, Enjolras had every intention of crawling into bed and hiding for the night but as he walked out of the room, flicking his wet hair out of his eyes, he came face to face with the man he was still trying so hard not to think about.

“Hey,” was all Grantaire said from where he was leant against the wall with his arms crossed. “Ferre’s taking ages in the downstairs bathroom and I got sick of waiting.” He waved the toothbrush that he was carrying as if to explain his presence there and shamelessly wandered his gaze over Enjolras who had come to an abrupt halt in the doorway. “Nice.”

It took Enjolras a moment to realise that he was referring to his choice of clothes but when he looked down at himself and then back to Grantaire he was smiling coyly. “Don’t judge me.”

Grantaire laughed softly. “Who’s judging? Batman is iconic. I like them. Kind of sexy actually.”

“You think Batman is sexy?”

“I was talking about you, you idiot,” said Grantaire with a roll of his eyes. “But yeah, I wouldn’t kick him outta bed either. Think it’s the gravelly voice.”

“You think _I’m_ sexy?” Enjolras knew it sounded like he was fishing for compliments when what he was actually doing was saying it out loud to make sure he hadn’t imagined it. He couldn’t help the question because he so desperately needed to hear the other man say the answer now.

“Jesus, are you kidding me?” Grantaire replied, quite obviously flabbergasted that Enjolras had even needed to ask such a ridiculous question. “Have you never even looked in a mirror? Just look at you! You’re so goddamn perfect it’s almost annoying.”

Enjolras couldn’t allow himself to move because he had so little control over the urge to touch this man that he didn’t trust himself at all, but he locked on to his eyes and couldn’t look away. He could feel the heat rushing to his face as he brought a fidgety hand up to comb fingers through the unruly hair that was still shedding droplets of water onto his neck and the action made Grantaire laugh.

“You prove my point! You can’t even take a compliment without being all shy and innocent and… and sexy as fuck.” Grantaire gave him a very purposeful look up and down and smiled. “Look at you, stood there in your bloody batman pyjamas with all those blonde curls dripping all over you… makes me think of… what was his name?”

“What was who’s name?”

“One of the Greek gods. Zeus’s son. He had blonde hair and he was god of the sun. I did some original art of him for a website once.” He rubbed a hand over his forehead in thought for a moment before he clicked his fingers and pointed back at Enjolras proudly. “Apollo! That’s it. That’s who you are.”

“I didn’t know Greek gods wore batman pyjamas,” Enjolras said with a smirk that brought a grin to the other man’s face and made his pulse race.

“Well they do now.”

The pressure to return the compliment was weighing heavily on Enjolras but he couldn’t speak. It wasn’t because the words weren’t already forming in his head but that he still didn’t dare say them. He didn’t trust what he would do if he started telling this man exactly what he thought about him, if he opened that door and let himself run at top speed through it. It quickly became clear that Grantaire was waiting for him to say something, to do something, to give him a sign perhaps? Enjolras, however, didn’t want to say anything. All he wanted to do was grab the man, pull him into his arms and kiss him like his life depended on it.

“Thank you,” was all he said and hated himself for it. He hastily added a smile to try and make it seem less apathetic but knew it wasn’t nearly good enough.

Grantaire was just stood there smiling softly at him. Still waiting.

“Well, I better get out of your way. You probably wanna get to bed too so… see you in the morning, yeah?”

Enjolras was already walking past him towards the stairs that led to his attic bedroom and hating himself more with every step but at the end of the hallway, he couldn’t resist glancing back and Grantaire caught the look with the same smile that seemed to have taken up permanent residency on his face.

With one hand on the bathroom door handle and the other still holding his toothbrush, he nodded to him. “Goodnight Apollo.”

*

There was no way in hell Enjolras was going to be able to sleep and it was pointless trying yet he still laid in bed for a good long hour, flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if he could get away with leaning out of the window for a cigarette without his brother finding out. He was starting to feel like a teenager again, for all the wrong reasons. But then had he ever sneaked out of his parents house to smoke or to meet up with a boy? Neither of these vices had ever been tempting enough to make him disobey his strict father, especially after seeing his brother turned out of the house for being open about his sexuality. Enjolras had always been a fighter but perhaps he had sometimes missed the obvious battles that deserved his support. Combeferre was stronger than him in many ways and he was only just starting to realise that.

Was he being cowardly now? Why was the thought of being honest with Grantaire so terrifying? It made no difference whether the object of his desire was a man or a woman as he couldn’t care less about his parents approval; it was more because he had never felt like this before about anyone of either sex. It was new and new meant scary. But new also meant exciting too.

He managed another frustratingly long hour in bed, turning from one way to another, waiting for sleep to finally give him some respite and being constantly evaded by it, before he finally gave in and got up.

It was an odd experience to walk through the house and find it so unfamiliarly silent and dark but then it _was_ nearly three o’clock in the morning. There was little chance of anyone being awoken by his movement at this time, especially after the tiring day they’d had, yet he still walked as softly as he could along the hallway and down the stairs, taking care to avoid the steps he knew would creak underfoot.

The plan was to head straight into the kitchen and have a calming smoke in the cool garden before heading back to bed. He hadn’t meant to pause just a moment too long in the doorway of the lounge, where the moonlight through the curtains caught the glittery tree and drew his eye. He hadn’t meant to wander into the room and pace as quietly as was humanly possible over to the sofa on which Grantaire was laying, fast asleep. And he hadn’t meant to crouch down in front of him so their faces were level and he could enjoy staring at him for just a moment.

Maybe a moment longer.

He really should get up and move.

One moment more.

This was bordering on stalking behaviour and getting downright freaky.

_Get up, Enjolras. Move._

There was so little light in the room, yet as his eyes adjusted more to the darkness, he could see more and more intricate details on the sleeping face of the man in front of him. His eye lashes were so thick, how had he never noticed that when his eyes were open? A scruffy yet short haired beard and moustache framed his chin and mouth and had been recently trimmed by the looks of it. There was the tiniest patch of hair that he’d missed just above his jaw line and Enjolras was fighting himself not to reach out and run a finger over it. Silently, he scanned a hungry eye over the contours of the man’s face; from the messy dark curls that were tucked behind his ear to the profile of his forehead, his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, the way his nostrils moved so gently in and out with each breath, the shape of his mouth and the slight sheen on his lips. He was so breathtakingly beautiful it made Enjolras tremble. He was just allowing his eyes to move down over the man’s shoulders and chest when-

“I know you’re there.”

Enjolras jumped guiltily to his feet in a second and backed away just as Grantaire opened his eyes and looked up at him.

“Fuck, I’m sorry! I just…”

“You don’t have to wait until I’m asleep to look at me. Trust me, I like it.”

There was none of the usual flirtatious smirks or tell-tale smiles and winks that seemed to have become standard over the last few days when Grantaire held his gaze from the sofa. He looked deadly serious and, perhaps, just a little anxious, and it sent tremors through Enjolras’ body.

 _Fuck, that wasn’t just tremors!_ He was downright shaking now and there was very little room in these damn batman pyjama trousers to hide his growing erection. He needed to get away and quickly but as he started to move, Grantaire’s hand flew out and closed around his wrist.

“Don’t run off again Apollo… Please don’t run away.”

And he didn’t. He didn’t run and he didn’t move and it was Grantaire who came to him, standing up from the sofa, one hand still around Enjolras’ wrist and the other moving to brush his hair from his face, trailing his knuckles softly over the other man’s cheekbone. Enjolras let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes for the briefest of moments as he felt Grantaire’s hand move through his hair to the back of his head, drawing him gently closer. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes to find the other man’s face so close to his that he could feel each exhalation on his own mouth. Still, Grantaire didn’t move any closer until he felt Enjolras’ hands enclose around his waist and then, with the slightest hint of a smile, he brought their mouths together at last.

It didn’t take long for the kiss to become deep and passionate, a desperation growing wilder with every lick of the tongue, every press of the lips, every little nibble, every swallow and every breath. Enjolras moved his hands from Grantaire’s hips to hold his face in his hands as he kissed him, simply because if the other man had broken the kiss and let go, he would have cried out in despair but he needn’t have worried as the arms that were wrapped around him were equally as determined. When they began pulling them both down onto the sofa, Enjolras was happy to let himself be guided as he found himself flat on his back on the duvet that still held the warmth of Grantaire’s body with the other man’s weight on top of him. The friction of Grantaire’s hips as he started grinding them slowly against his was euphoric and Enjolras wanted more than anything to let himself lose control with this man, right here on the sofa beside the newly erected Christmas tree, in his brother’s house. When Grantaire pushed himself up so he was straddling Enjolras, his chest moving with panting breaths, he gazed down at the man below him and couldn’t stop the gentle moan that escaped from deep in his throat.

“You have no idea how much I want you,” Grantaire whispered, as he reached his hands back down to pin Enjolras’ wrists back against the cushion, leaning down to bite and suck gently at the side of his neck.

Enjolras responded by leaning his head back further to expose more of his neck which instantly became covered in biting kisses as he tried to stifle the groan that was lingering on his lips. He bucked his hips up against Grantaire who pressed back against him with controlled determined movements that drove Enjolras wild.

“Fuck, I want you too… so much… but we can’t. Not here.” His words came in shallow panting breaths and hearing them, he knew how little conviction they were spoken with. If Grantaire had tried a little harder to persuade him, he would have given in so easily. Fortunately (or not) he yielded to the request and sat up again, still trapping Enjolras between his thighs.

“I don’t want to stop…” Grantaire muttered, his eyes locked on to Enjolras with so much longing in them that the other man felt winded by the sight. “But I also don’t want you to have to be quiet. I wanna make you scream my name when you come… And you will.”

A mischievous grin broke upon Enjolras’ face. “What, scream your name or come?”

“Both, Apollo, both,” said Grantaire confidently as he leant down to rest a gentle kiss on Enjolras’ mouth.

“Promises, promises,” Enjolras teased, feeling the strength of the confidence he didn’t know he had and loving how it made him feel. Grantaire was like a magician and he felt like a very willing puppet in his hands. He liked what the man was doing to him. He liked feeling like this and wondered how he had not longed for it sooner but before Grantaire, no one had made him even think of it.

Grantaire brushed his lips so softly against Enjolras’ neck and jawline that it tickled and made him shiver. A consequence that was only increased when he pressed his face into the curls over Enjolras’ ear and whispered, “Just wait until I get you into my bed.”

A low growl vibrated from Enjolras’ throat before he had time to try and swallow it back. “Don’t think I can.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna leave you with nothing,” said Grantaire as he raised himself back up and moved his hands to the waistband of Enjolras’ trousers, slipping his fingers underneath it and easing them down in one excruciatingly slow drawn out movement.

Enjolras tried to steady his breathing as he leant back against the cushion and put himself, quite literally, in Grantaire’s hands.

*


	8. "I Soar Through A World That Is New, That Is Free"

It never ceased to amaze Enjolras how far he could run on so little sleep.

Today he was going on less than two hours and adrenaline alone and had already covered the length of two fields, the longest route through the forest and was making his way home via the outskirts of the village. He could count the amount of times he had visited this small village in the north of England on the fingers of one hand, but it was easy to find his way around. It was barely more than a handful of old stone cottages, a post office and a pub which blended so well into the surrounding buildings that a huge gawdy sign had been erected to acknowledge them (which somewhat defeated the object, it could be argued.) Additionally, there was an ivy-covered church, a scattering of old-fashioned telephone boxes that seemed to have been left standing for nostalgia purposes and a children’s playground with a rusty slide and rope swings. Even when walking, the whole village could be covered in less than an hour and Enjolras was jogging at a considerable pace that morning.

The early frost had just about cleared but a close mist hung to a slight chill in the air and there were very few people other than himself out in it. It was just how he liked it; quiet and serene and the perfect environment for allowing his thoughts to run free.

Except, on this morning, they weren’t just thoughts but very fresh memories and replaying them in his mind as he ran was giving him a drunken feeling of pure bliss. It wasn’t only the exquisite images of Grantaire and the recollection of how those beautiful artist’s hands felt on his body, it was the things he had said and the tone of his voice as he said them. Even just the way he called Enjolras Apollo sent a shiver through his body every time he remembered it. It all played like a perfect and intoxicating movie through his head.

_“Let me touch you Apollo, I wanna feel every damn perfect inch of you…”_

Had he even answered that? Enjolras couldn’t remember the words that he had spoken but he remembered well how he had taken Grantaire’s hand and pressed it to his crotch. He remembered the feel of the warm fingers that closed firmly around his shaft and the little breathy moan of pleasure that had escaped not from his own mouth but from Grantaire’s, as if just touching him gave the other man euphoria. And then Enjolras had closed his eyes. Not because he didn’t want to see what Grantaire was doing to him but more because watching it was making him far too excited and he wanted it to last. It was enrapturing enough just to know this beautiful man was straddling him, massaging his erection with a confident hand and looking down at him with those stunning deep brown eyes; seeing it would have pushed him straight over the edge. In the darkness behind his eyelids, he had heard the words in that whispered voice that made him tremble:

_“So fucking amazing… you feel so good… just perfect for me.”_

Enjolras hadn’t dared open his eyes until he felt the warmth of Grantaire’s body pressing down on him again and the soft tickle of the man’s hair against his collarbone. As a gentle breath fluttered against his face, he had moved a hand to tangle his fingers in Grantaire’s hair and blinked his eyes open as he heard the words in his ear:

_“Come for me Enjolras.”_

And, of course, he had.

The memory of it was so fresh that it made him feel lightheaded every time it washed over him. He could still feel Grantaire’s hands on his body, as if they’d left an imprint that could not be eroded by the passing of time. Something had changed inside Enjolras last night and he had a suspicion that it was not something he could change back even if he wanted to, which he was surprised to find that he didn’t. All he really wanted to do now was get back to his brother’s house where he was hoping he’d still find Grantaire asleep on the sofa.

It had been early when he’d set off and the house had still been quiet but the sun was starting to climb up through the mist now and instinct told him that he’d probably been running for longer than planned. Would Grantaire wake up to find him gone and think he’d panicked and run off again? _Fuck,_ he hadn’t considered that. Enjolras didn’t realise he’d automatically increased the pace until the stitch in his side started screaming at him to ease up and he reluctantly came to a temporary stop, panting heavily as he bent over to lean his hands on his knees and wait for his breath to return.

Taking a short moment of recovery, Enjolras stood back up and glanced around him as his chest began to settle slowly. It was the first time he had bothered to notice anything significant about his surroundings rather than just passing through them in a blur as he concentrated on the more engaging mental images in his head.

_When had he strayed off the path?_ Directly ahead of him was a rather dilapidated looking wooden stile and a signpost so weatherworn that he couldn’t read it but it seemed to be indicating a short cut through an overgrown bridleway that wound west of the village and towards the house. Staying with the current route along the main road would take him twice as long.

As he stood there debating the choice, he began to feel the unsettling sensation of being watched and turned his head to catch the glance of an elderly gentleman leaning on a walking stick and observing him from the other side of the road. Enjolras nodded a polite acknowledgement of him as their eyes met but the man took this as an invitation to wander over. _Goddamn it._

“Are you ok?” the man called as he approached.

Enjolras realised then how he must have looked a moment ago, leaning over and fighting for breath, and he waved a hand to dismiss the concern. “Yes, fine thank you. Just overdid it a bit with the run.”

The man came to a stop by his side and squinted curiously at him. “I’m sorry… do I know you? I have to say you look very familiar and I sometimes forget… old age, you know.”

Enjolras smiled. “I doubt it. I don’t live around here, I’m just staying with my brother for Christmas. Actually, do you know if this path leads back to Grange Road?”

The old man was staring at him so intently that he didn’t appear to have noticed the question for a few seconds. “No… I’m sure I know you… Sorry, what did you say?”

“Grange Road?” Enjolras repeated, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. “Does this path head that way?”

“Oh. Uhh, yes it will bring you out at the west end of the road where the roundabout is.”

“Brilliant, thanks,” said Enjolras and waved a goodbye as he headed towards the stile, feeling the man’s eyes on him as he went.

There was something about the brief encounter with the stranger that had unnerved him and as he jogged along the new route, trying not to catch his legs on the overgrown brambles, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still being watched, which was a ridiculous notion considering how fast he was moving again. The old man would have to be pulling some pretty impressive moves with that walking stick to be keeping up with him! Yet, he still felt caught off balance by the encounter, even though he couldn’t, at that point in time, reason why.

*

“Where the hell have you been?”

Combeferre got up from where he was kneeled on the hallway floor sweeping glitter into a dustpan when Enjolras burst through the front door, breath heavy and his collar wet with perspiration.

“Run… why?... How long have I been?” Enjolras huffed between panting breaths as he pushed his hair back out of his eyes.

“I dunno. We’ve been up for an hour. But that wasn’t what I was talking about,” said Combeferre and pointed to his brother’s feet with the brush handle. “How did that happen?”

Enjolras glanced down at himself and scoffed at the sight of the rip in his trouser leg and the blotchy patch of blood. Thankfully, it was the other leg to the one that Missy had attacked that was only now starting to heal. An unfortunate theme seemed to be developing on this visit. “Fuck it! I took a short cut.”

“Seems like that worked out well for you,” Combeferre said with a grin. “There’s still some fresh coffee left in the kitchen.”

“Great. I’ll just get washed up quickly. So… everyone up now then?” Enjolras asked and tried not to stare at the closed door to the lounge. “It’s… umm… very quiet.”

“It would be. Courf has taken Gav to hockey practice and Zel decided she wanted to go with them. Gives me a chance to get the house clean while they’re out though. Speaking of which,” said Combeferre as he got to his feet and slapped a hand to his brother’s shoulder. “You can help now you’re back! There’s a sink full of dirty dishes in there with your name on.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Sure thing. Lemme just get cleaned up and grab coffee first. I’ll make one for you and R too while I’m there.”

“No need. He’s gone home.”

The immediate sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach felt undeniably like karma and he tried to look as unbothered as possible by it. “Already?”

“Yeah, he’s got someone coming to fix the heating.”

“Did he say anything before he left?”

Combeferre frowned. “Like what?”

_Nice one, Enj._

“Nothing,” said Enjolras with a laugh as he started up the stairs. He had already got half way up before his brother called him back.

“Oh, Enj? There was a phone call for you while you were out.”

Enjolras leant over the banister to look down at him with a disbelieving stare. “A phone call for me?”

“Yeah, some guy called Jehan. He asked me to tell you, and I quote, to ‘ _check your motherfucking emails’_.”

Enjolras sighed in frustration. “Thanks bro.”

In all fairness, he had endured six months in prison where checking his e-mails was one of the many luxuries he had to live without so it hadn’t been top of his priority list since he got out. However, there was a nagging little voice in the back of Enjolras’ mind telling him that half a year ago, he would have been desperate to immerse himself back in the ABC society and be brought up to speed on all he had missed. It wasn’t that he didn’t care; nothing was further from the truth; it was only that he had allowed himself to be distracted. What was more scary to acknowledge was that he wasn’t entirely unhappy about that.

On his way to the shower, Enjolras made a diversion via his bedroom to grab a change of clothes and it was in his mind to grab his phone and drop a quick message to Jehan while he was there. That was until he walked into the room and spotted the folded piece of paper that had been posted under his door. As soon as his eye caught the scribbled _‘Apollo’_ he felt such a rush of heated adrenaline course through his body that everything else was forgotten and he smiled as he leant to pick it up and unfold it.

_‘I’ll be home all day. Door will be unlocked.’_

It was short and to the point but Enjolras still sat on his bed and read it multiple times before he refolded the paper and grimaced at himself for acting like such a teenager as he tucked it under his pillow.

*

Fighting for justice against gangs of right wing extremists, leading protests that lasted days with very little nourishment and rest, defending vulnerable followers from attack, even getting beaten black and blue and ending up being thrown in a jail cell… none of it was more intimidating than the thought of going round to Grantaire’s house later that day.

He knew nothing about this sort of thing and it hadn’t mattered in the past because he’d had no interest in it anyway but now?

Now Enjolras was starting to panic himself into a nervous wreck over what he was supposed to wear and what time he should turn up. As he stood in his bedroom, changing out of yet another shirt (did that look too dressy? Was it too much to look like he was making an effort? Would something more casual be better or would that look like he wasn’t making _enough_ of an effort?) he cursed himself for being so inept at romance and all that came with it. Likely this was a landmark passed by most during their teenage years, not at the age of 27, for fucks sake! His parents had been useless, of course, but Combeferre, for all the arguments the two brothers had experienced while they were growing up under the same roof, had tried at times to give his younger brother some direction, but quickly given up when it became obvious Enjolras had no interest whatsoever in relationships of a romantic nature. It was Combeferre who, on Enjolras’ sixteenth birthday, had made sure he owned a packet of condoms and knew what to do with them. By that point the older brother had already been disowned by their parents but had made a special journey to travel back and meet up with his brother on his special day because no amount of homophobia was going to stop him. The contraceptives had been reluctantly accepted and remained untouched in Enjolras’ underwear drawer for a year before he’d thrown them out. There was much more important things to worry about than sex by that point, such as his new friend Jehan who seemed quite interested in hearing about Enjolras’ plan to do something about the group of local racist misogynists who kept hanging around by the college gates, harassing some of the black female students as they passed.

As he did up the buttons of yet another shirt and hoped it would suffice because it was the last one he had to choose from, Enjolras wished for a brief moment that he could still go to his big brother for advice. He felt young, inexperienced and stupid and he didn’t like how that felt.

How long was it acceptable to wait before he went round? He didn’t want to show up while there was still someone there fixing the heating and he also didn’t want to seem too eager – that was something that was frowned upon, wasn’t it? But then, if he left it too long, would Grantaire think he wasn’t really interested? _Fuck, this was a whole new nightmare!_ Prison was easier.

He could just change his mind. He could just not go anywhere and when he saw Grantaire again, which he inevitably would, he could just explain that he didn’t want to pursue it and offer up an apology which would doubtless be received with as much enthusiasm as he felt at even considering offering it. He could spend the afternoon here at his brother’s house, catching up on his e-mails, ringing his friend back home, spending time with his brother’s family…

… All of these options were still running pointlessly through his head as he walked the short distance to Grantaire’s house a while later with his hands in his pockets and his stomach feeling like it was in his throat.

The note had said that the door was unlocked which was surely an invitation to let himself in but it didn’t feel right so he knocked and waited on the doorstep when he arrived. He could hear Missy barking from somewhere inside and the sound of Grantaire’s voice chastising her before the handle turned and the door opened. There was the most fleeting moment of fear induced doubt in Enjolras’ mind but as soon as he saw Grantaire it dissolved instantaneously, along with all the stomach-churning trepidation that had been plaguing him all day.

All he wanted to do was lunge forward, grab the man and kiss him but before he could, Grantaire gave him a look of practised curiosity and said, “Did you bring them?”

Enjolras panicked. “Did I bring what?”

Grantaire stared at him, a deadly serious expression on his face. “The batman pyjamas.”

His poker face was so convincing that Enjolras almost fell for it until the slightest twinkle in Grantaire’s eye hit the mark.

“Hey, at no point have I ever agreed to dress up for you,” he said with a grin that the other man returned as he stepped through the door and closed it behind him.

“ _YET,_ ” Grantaire said with a familiar wink.

Enjolras smiled as he was drawn into an embrace and melted into a long, languid kiss. It felt so good just to hold Grantaire in his arms and take his time over kissing him, enjoying every single second of it, memorising every tiny part of how his lips felt, how he moved his tongue, how the soft bristle of the hair around his mouth and chin rubbed ever so slightly against Enjolras’ skin. It was slow, soft and romantic and he loved how it made him feel, but he loved it even more when he felt Grantaire’s hands start feeling their way down his back, gripping his hips for a moment before he started undoing Enjolras’ belt.

“Not wasting any time then?” Enjolras asked, trying to keep some sort of control over himself as he watched the other man start undressing him from the waist down.

When Grantaire looked up at him, Enjolras grinned provocatively but the gesture wasn’t returned. There was a deadly serious desperation in Grantaire’s face that Enjolras had never seen before and when he drew him back into another kiss; a much deeper, more passionate kiss this time, Enjolras could feel that the man in his arms was shaking.

“Isn’t this what you’re here for?” Grantaire murmured, as he felt his way round to Enjolras’ erection and caused the man to suck in a sudden deep breath as he closed his hand around it.

“I’m here for _YOU_ ,” Enjolras responded when he could gain enough composure to do so. “I just want you in whatever way I can get you… More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

It wasn’t exactly following the rules of playing hard to get but then he _WAS_ stood in the other man’s hallway with his trousers around his ankles so it was pretty much too late for that now anyway. Besides, the effect his words had on Grantaire was so rapturous, it only made him wish he’d said them sooner.

“ _My Apollo,_ ” Grantaire whispered and Enjolras could have sworn there were tears in his eyes. “I’m gonna give you fucking everything.”

How Grantaire managed it in such few fluid movements, Enjolras had no idea, but within a few seconds there were two sets of clothes spread over the floor and the hands that were exploring every part of his exposed flesh were strong, frantic and causing him to shiver uncontrollably at their touch. Grantaire was like a man possessed, running his hands over Enjolras’ body, kissing and biting his neck, his shoulders, his chest, while all the time a breathless moan kept humming from his throat and making Enjolras weaker by the second. His movements were bold and frantic, as if he had waited his whole life for this moment and Enjolras wanted desperately to give him the same amount of attention in return but the euphoria was becoming so dazzling that he could barely see or keep himself standing upright. The way that Grantaire manipulated Enjolras’ body so perfectly was making the room start to spin.

“You keep doing that… and I’m gonna come,” Enjolras murmured as he dug his fingers into Grantaire’s shoulders and held on tightly.

After a moment, Grantaire’s hand slowed but instead of releasing his hold on the other man’s cock, he just gripped it around the base and moved his attention back to Enjolras’ mouth. He kissed him deeply and his open mouth was still pressed to Enjolras’, breathing raggedly as he spoke. “Top or bottom?”

“Umm… I don’t really have a preference.”

Grantaire’s mouth became a little softer and slower and he brought both hands up to hold Enjolras’ face as he peppered gentle kisses across his skin. “It’s ok… I know you haven’t done this before…”

“Fuck, is it that obvious?”

“Only to me and it’s not a bad thing… don’t be shy… just tell me what you want. Today is about making you feel amazing…” He pulled away just far enough to look in Enjolras’ eyes and smile. “Don’t worry, you will have a chance to repay the favour.”

Feeling overwhelmingly self-conscious, Enjolras drew Grantaire back into his arms and hooked his chin over the other man’s shoulder as he held him close. He needed to feel the support of this man’s body against his, to melt into him for a moment and to not have to look in those eyes that ended him so easily with just a glance. “I wanna know how you… how you feel…” he started but his words trailed off and Grantaire caught them.

“Inside you? Baby, that’s fine with me. And it means I can do this,” he said and dropped to his knees.

Enjolras was grateful that Grantaire took his time because the feeling of the man’s mouth around his cock was without a doubt the most exquisite physical experience he had ever been graced with. He combed his hands through Grantaire’s hair before purposely knotting it around his fingers and holding on tightly as he thrust himself deeper into the blissful warm wetness. As Enjolras’ state of arousal grew more intense and he could feel a climax approaching, he began to finally lose some of the inhibitions that had been kept so protectively in-tact up until now. It was not only in a physical way but inwardly as well; he could feel himself giving in and letting go. The feeling of surrendering himself so completely to this man was something that he never would have imagined himself doing for anyone and yet now that he was doing it, there was no feeling in the world to match it. It was such a staggeringly breath-taking adventure that his eyes instantly felt the warm sting of tears and when the thunderbolt of an orgasm ploughed through him, he felt his entire body tremble with the effect of it. As it rocketed out of him into Grantaire’s mouth, Enjolras’ head fell back and he tilted his face up to the ceiling as the other man’s name left his mouth in a long loud moan as if he was calling it to the gods.

The sudden need to cry left Enjolras speechless. He wasn’t used to tears at the best of times but tears that were induced by nothing other than the overpowering need for release of the emotions that were flooding his brain and body? Yeah, that was new. Not wanting to look weak in front of Grantaire, he kept it hidden by not risking another word but he couldn’t help himself from grabbing the man’s hands and lacing their fingers together as he helped him to his feet. It felt like a nice way of expressing some of the feelings that he had no words for yet.

“You ok?” Grantaire asked as he leant in to press a kiss to Enjolras’ mouth.

“Fuck yeah.” It was the best he could manage in that moment. “You?”

“More than,” said Grantaire with a confident smile. “And I’m about to be even better.”

And with that, he turned away and still grasping Enjolras’ hand, led him up the stairs to his bedroom.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to read the description of "what happens next" (basically a description of the boys' first time) I have added it as an extra at the end so you can read chapter 14 and then come back to chapter 9 if you want to read it in chronological order. If you'd rather not read the smut, just go straight ahead to chapter 9. Enjoy!


	9. "So Many Things Unclear, So Many Things Unknown"

“Coffee.”

Enjolras looked up from his laptop at the friendly smile on his brother in law’s face and returned it as he picked up the cup that had been placed down in front of him and raised it to his lips.

“Thanks Courf. I didn’t ask for coffee though.”

“No, but you looked like you might need it,” said Courfeyrac as he resumed unloading the dishwasher. “You’ve been frowning at that screen for an hour now. Everything ok?”

There were too many possible answers to that question to be able to choose a good one to go with. In some ways everything was great; Enjolras still hadn’t come back to earth after a blissful few hours at Grantaire’s house the day before and had appeared to have lost the basic human need of food and sleep which was a bizarre experience indeed. However, the side effects of being so intoxicated by Grantaire was that everything else was taking a back seat and his mail inbox had practically screamed at him when he’d finally opened it that morning.

When Enjolras still hadn’t replied, Courfeyrac stopped what he was doing and turned back to him. “That’s the first time I’ve seen you pick up that computer since we got here. Is it trolls?”

“Yes and no,” Enjolras answered truthfully. “I’m gonna be getting threats and shit for a while. I’ve got used to that. Price to pay, I guess. It’s nothing I’m not used to.”

Courfeyrac let out an exasperated sigh. “Jesus Enj, I don’t know how you stay so calm about it all. Can’t you block them? Or… I don’t know… change your email address?”

“Wouldn’t make a difference. Besides, everyone knows they can reach me on the ABC website and people need to know that’s still active and available,” said Enjolras, hating the unfamiliar hypocrisy in his words. _Why yes, of course I am still here to support your fight for justice and lend you my support. As I’ve often stated, nothing matters to me more… but please just put your pain on hold while I go have fun with my brother’s next-door neighbour._ Fuck, what was happening to him? Thank god for Jehan who had taken over running the group for him during the six month absence and, from the looks of it today, had kept that going over the last couple of weeks since he had been out. No wonder the guy was pissed at him.

“So what is it then?”

Enjolras looked up again with a confused frown. “Huh?”

“If it’s not the trolls stressing you out, what is it? I know something is getting to you.”

With an angry sigh, Enjolras slammed his laptop shut and leant back in his chair. “Don’t you start too.” He rubbed a hand over his forehead because his mind was swimming and it felt like his skull was going to implode. “I’m OK.”

Courfeyrac said nothing until he had finished putting the clean crockery away in the cupboards and by the time he had sat down at the table, Enjolras had sat forward again and was busying himself rolling a cigarette.

“You’re smoking more too.”

Enjolras gave him a sideways smirk. “You _would_ notice that I guess.”

“Fuck off,” Courfeyrac laughed. “Seriously, are you ok? It’s perfectly acceptable if you’re not, you know. After everything you’ve been through recently… it may be a good time to dial things back a bit. Just give yourself a chance to relax for a while.”

“That’s what I’m doing,” said Enjolras, pushing his closed laptop across the table as if to reinforce his point.

“That what you were doing yesterday too?”

Enjolras purposely ignored his brother in law as he got up and opened the kitchen door, stepping out onto the path and lighting his cigarette. He knew, of course, that Courfeyrac would follow him. As much as it annoyed him sometimes, it was sweet that he cared so much.

“Enj, is something going on with you and R? You were at his house all afternoon and you hardly know the guy. Ferre says you two have been flirting like hell with each other. What were you doing round there for so long yesterday? Or is that a question I don’t wanna know the answer to?”

Enjolras blew out a long breath of smoke and stared at Courfeyrac. “Don’t beat around the bush Courf, hey.”

“That’s not an answer to my question.”

“Neither is fuck off,” said Enjolras with a grin. “But that’s all you’re getting.”

Courfeyrac watched and waited as if patience would reward him with a better response but Enjolras said nothing more. “Ok, it’s none of my business. I get it. But… just be careful Enj.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Is he some kind of serial maneater or something?” Enjolras tried to make it sound like a joke but he knew he’d failed miserably and in doing so had revealed much more than he ever meant to, but so be it. Courfeyrac’s words had scared him.

“Grantaire is one of the most genuine, kindest, gentlest souls I’ve ever known. You have no worries there Enj. But you live three hours apart. I’m just throwing that in there in case you’d forgotten. And that’s all I’m gonna say on it.”

Enjolras took another drag on his cigarette and held Courfeyrac’s gaze with confidence. “It’s true what they say about couples who are together so long that they start to turn into each other. You and Ferre sound exactly the same sometimes.”

Courfeyrac smiled proudly. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and turned his gaze back to the garden where it immediately wandered to the house opposite. He couldn’t stop himself from staring when he realised which window was Grantaire’s bedroom and an involuntary shiver ran through him. Since he had returned yesterday, it had been pointless trying to not replay the entire visit on repeat in his mind for it seemed intent on doing so whether or not he wanted it. Which he did. Because the memory was an exquisite one.

“So… just hypothetically… if two people were to meet and want to be together and there was a geographical distance between them… you think that would be destined for failure?”

Courfeyrac was kind enough not to take the bait. “I would say it would be a very difficult situation, especially when just starting out. I mean, how are you supposed to build the foundations of a lasting relationship if you can’t spend any proper time together? Hypothetically speaking.”

Enjolras’ eyes fell to the floor as he brought the cigarette back to his lips. “People make it work… so I believe.”

“I’m sure they do. I guess it just has to be a strong enough connection. If it’s the right person then nothing will stop it. But I’m a hopeless romantic… or so I’m told,” said Courfeyrac and earned a timid smile. “Oh, and I’m not the only one. Our neighbour over there is a sucker for the sentimental stuff too… And he loves white chocolate… Just throwing that out there.”

Enjolras exchanged another smile with his brother in law and knew it was pointless trying to pretend. It would have been embarrassing to even try. “Courf…”

“I won’t say anything to Ferre if you don’t want me to. But all I would say is if you’re planning on being out for most of the time you’re here, you might wanna come up with an excuse if you don’t want him getting suspicious. He’s not stupid. Or you could… you know… just tell him the truth.”

“I don’t wanna ruin things with us again.” Enjolras hadn’t even realised he was scared of that exact thing until he heard himself say the words but it made a lot of sense. The relationship with his brother was only just starting to feel like it was getting back on solid ground. He didn’t want to do anything to damage that.

“Trust me, that’s not something you need worry about Enj. I know my husband. He’s likely to be more hurt by you keeping something so important from him.”

The words were said so matter-of-factly but Enjolras felt a cold shiver of fear as he heard them. Fear wasn’t an emotion he often felt in any form but then the same could be said for many of the feelings he had experienced since his arrival. Some were vastly more welcome than others.

“Who said anything about it being so important?” he asked a little more defensively than intended.

“Just a guess. It’s _you_ , Enj,” Courfeyrac said as if that should be explanation enough. “You don’t do anything by halves. And that’s something that you have in common with R. Whether that’s a good thing or not… well that’s something the two of you will have to work out yourselves.”

“You talk like we’re a couple. It’s not like that. It’s just… just…”

“Sex? Hey, nothing wrong with that if it’s all you both want.”

The hidden question in that sentence wasn’t lost on Enjolras, nor the potential danger that the answer held. There was a few moments of thoughtful silence before stubbing out his cigarette, Enjolras combed his fingers through his hair and said, “Courf, I’m just gonna go out for a while.”

“No worries,” Courfeyrac answered with a kind and knowing smile. “I’ll tell Ferre I’ve sent you to the shop for milk or something, which, FYI, we are actually nearly out of. Seeing as you owe me a favour.”

*

The good thing (one of many, in fact) about it taking less than five minutes to walk from one house to the other was that Enjolras didn’t have enough time to talk himself out of it. He didn’t know exactly what he wanted or needed to say to Grantaire, he just knew he had to say _something._ It was only on the last few steps up to the front door that he started doubting himself again. Was it ok to just call round unannounced on a Sunday, like he suddenly had some right to expect a certain behaviour from this man? Is that how Grantaire would see it? Deep down, was that how _he s_ aw it? Fuck, romantic interactions were unnecessarily complicated! No wonder he hadn’t bothered with them for so many years.

Grantaire looked pleasantly surprised when he opened the door to Enjolras. He had on a paint stained shirt and ripped jeans, his hair scraped back in a messy ponytail and a cloth in his hands that he was using to desperately try and rub the paint off his skin as he invited Enjolras in.

“Sorry, you’re busy,” Enjolras observed.

“Not at all. Just working on the mural.”

“Mural?”

Grantaire’s eyes lit up. “Come see.”

He turned to head back across the hall but Enjolras reached out to catch his arm. “Wait. Can we talk?”

“Course. What’s up?”

Perhaps it was the brief moment of touch, even it was just to the man’s arm through the heavy cotton of his shirt sleeve, or perhaps it was the way Grantaire looked genuinely concerned for what was to be said, the way his eyes bore into Enjolras and rendered him instantly helpless, the way he turned back to him with an expression of care that was readable in his face and his body, or perhaps it was simply that it was Grantaire and Enjolras couldn’t help himself. In a second, he had pulled Grantaire roughly into his arms and was kissing him passionately, discovering as he did so that the paint stains on his shirt were still wet and now doubtless on him too but not caring one bit.

“That’s not talking,” said Grantaire, trying to smile between kisses. “But I agree.”

It was pointless trying to string coherent words together now; the effect that Grantaire had on him was way too powerful, and Enjolras both loved and feared it in equal measures.

“Shut up,” Enjolras growled as he started tearing at Grantaire’s clothes.

“Fuck, I’ve unleashed the beast,” Grantaire teased as he allowed himself to be dragged up the stairs.

*

There was a patch of damp in one corner of the bedroom ceiling where the paper and paint were peeling away and the more Enjolras stared up at it, the more it had him transfixed. Of course, it could have also had something to do with how he had collapsed back on the duvet in the lingering daze of a heady high and not moved since. Now that his pulse had slowed and his heart rate had returned to somewhere near normal, he could feel himself starting to doze and as nice as it was to feel so relaxed, this wasn’t getting his original mission accomplished. He had wanted to talk to Grantaire… what was it about? Goddamn it, if sex was going to have this sort of effect on his brain, he would need to start drinking more coffee.

Enjolras was vaguely aware of the other man walking back into the room and when Grantaire climbed back onto the bed and laid down with a contented sigh beside him, Enjolras lifted one arm to allow him to snuggle against his chest and curled it back around his shoulder when he did.

“I keep meaning to do something about it but, you know… always something more important needs my attention,” said Grantaire and when Enjolras threw him a confused look, he laughed and said “The damp. You’re staring at it.”

“Oh! Not anymore I’m not,” said Enjolras as he wriggled onto his side so he could face the other man who nuzzled his nose against Enjolras’ cheek and moaned softly.

“Thought maybe you’d had a vision. That happens doesn’t it? Images of saints and prophets appearing in the grain of wood and the like. And, you know, with you being my Greek god…”

Enjolras knew he was teasing but there was only one word he heard and responded to anyway. “ _Your_ Greek god… although I’m not. A god, I mean.”

The unspoken words passed in a silent stare between them and Enjolras was inwardly begging the other man to speak them so he could answer like he so badly wanted to. _Yes, yours. Yours. Yours. Always and only yours._

“ ‘Having an eternal and necessary existence’,” Grantaire said and earned another confused frown. “Google’s definition of a god. I think that sums you up pretty well Apollo.”

“Thanks… I think,” said Enjolras with a smile.

“You’re not used to compliments, are you?”

“I don’t get them very often.”

“That’s gonna change with me around.”

Enjolras swallowed nervously and inched a little closer to the man in his arms. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Because… it’s just… well, you’re not gonna be around are you?”

Grantaire’s eyes grew wide and he grinned mischievously. “That sounds a little like a threat. Do you know something I don’t?”

“Be serious,” said Enjolras, feeling the frustration building inside him. Fuck, this man could be as irritating as he was sexy.

“I’m wild,” said Grantaire with a wink and then laughed and pressed a kiss to Enjolras’ mouth. “Ok, sorry, Apollo. I’m listening.”

Enjolras stared into the awaiting eyes and lost the ability to speak. He had never had trouble getting words out in his entire life. This was infuriating as hell.

After a moment of silence, Grantaire seemed to thread together the hidden words and a look of knowing passed over his face. “When are you planning on going home?”

“January sometime. Another month or so probably. Hopefully things might have died down a bit by then.” Laying here on Grantaire’s bed with his arms around him and the beginnings of a new kind of happiness trickling through him, Enjolras didn’t want that day to ever come. Right then he would have happily lived and died right there in Grantaire’s embrace. It was so unlike him and it was terrifying.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but I kind of hope they haven’t. Died down, I mean. I don’t want you to be in danger, of course, but I don’t want you to go home either. Not gonna lie.”

Enjolras drew him closer and kissed him deeply. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

In response to this, Grantaire brought his hands up to hold Enjolras’ face and said, “Do you think you are just a passing fancy to me? Something to fill the time? Enj, I’m not in the habit of inviting just anyone into my bed. Thought you knew that.”

“I’m sorry,” said Enjolras feeling young and stupid once again. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, as you might have noticed.”

“I beg to differ,” said Grantaire with a suggestive smile as he ran his hand down Enjolras’ spine and dug his fingers into the soft flesh of the man’s ass.

“I wasn’t talking about that,” Enjolras replied and kissed the grin off Grantaire’s face because it drove him wild and he just couldn’t resist. He could feel himself growing hard again when Grantaire started moaning gently in his throat as the kiss became hungrier and he started grinding their hips together. With some effort, he drew his face away and said, “R… listen to me.”

“M’listening,” Grantaire muttered as he became engrossed in leaving a scattering of kisses across Enjolras’ neck.

“I need you to know… need to say…” It was so difficult to concentrate when he was so aroused.

It was almost a blessing when Grantaire stopped kissing him and raised his face to lock eyes again, his expression suddenly serious as he trailed the backs of his fingers gently over Enjolras’ cheekbone. “Need to say what?”

“I don’t want this to end.” It felt like the scariest sentence he’d ever uttered in his life and his stomach jolted as he heard the words leave his mouth. _So this is how it feels to be vulnerable._

“Neither do I,” said Grantaire and kissed him gently. “So let’s not think too far ahead right now, yeah? Lets just enjoy being together now. We can worry about later when it arrives.”

Enjolras wanted to feel happy that they were at least on the same page but he couldn’t be as laid-back about it as Grantaire was. The fact remained that he had to leave this man at some point in the near future and that was already weighing heavy on him now. It was only going to get harder, he knew, and there was nothing he could do to make it easier. Knowing it was unavoidable was like falling down into a deep pit where sharp spikes waited below to impale him and trying not to worry about how much it would hurt when they pierced his flesh.

*

By the time Enjolras left Grantaire’s house, it was dark and the moon was out. _SHIT._ And he still had to swing by the shop to pick up milk or Courfeyrac’s kind excuse would not only go to waste but be exposed as a lie and the very last thing Enjolras wanted to do was cause trouble between his brother and his husband. He wouldn’t ask or even allow the man to lie for him anymore. It wasn’t fair and hopefully wouldn’t be needed anyway. Anyway, was it believable that it took…. (Enjolras glanced at his watch)… _holy fuck,_ 3 hours to walk to the shop and back for milk?

It wasn’t until he got under the light of the streetlamps that he also realised he had a big smear of green paint across his white t-shirt. It was going to be pretty much completely pointless trying to keep this a secret from Combeferre.

He jogged the last part of the journey to the shop which had additional benefits considering he’d rushed out earlier without a coat on and by the time he was browsing the unfamiliar aisles looking for the refrigerators, the warmth had started to seep back into his bones. Once the milk had been located, Enjolras lingered a moment more in front of the confectionary stand, debating the choices. It was a good opportunity to butter his brother up with his favourite chocolate, which of course meant he had to buy something for Courfeyrac too who, lets be honest, deserved a lot more, and this then meant he would have to get something for the kids too and… fuck it… where was the white chocolate?

“It is you, isn’t it?”

Enjolras turned to find himself face to face with an elderly gentleman who looked somewhat familiar. The man was squinting at him behind his glasses, a folded-up newspaper under his arm and a walking stick in his hand.

“Oh! Yes… hello,” Enjolras stuttered awkwardly. “You gave me directions the other day, I remember. Thanks, it was really helpful-“

“No, I’m not talking about that. It’s _YOU_ ,” the old man repeated and used the folded newspaper to point accusingly at him. “I knew I’d seen you before. You’re that young un’ who started those May riots in London! I saw you on the news. You’re supposed to be in prison!”

_FUCK._

Was there any point in denying it? Enjolras could see that the old man’s words had already attracted the attention of the cashier who was leaning shamelessly with her elbows on the counter to get a better look.

“Look, I don’t want any trouble-“ Enjolras began and felt some of his old strength returning. Confrontation was something he was used to. Confrontation didn’t scare him. Leading trouble to his brother’s and Grantaire’s doorsteps was a different matter, however.

“Don’t you think you should have thought of that before you caused all that chaos and destruction? Did you know a young girl got acid thrown in her face? Made my blood run cold, that did. What have you got to say for yourself about that then?”

“Ok, enough. We were the ones who were attacked and I tried to protect that girl.” Had it been anywhere but here, Enjolras would have said more or, alternatively, said nothing and just turned his back and walked away but something told him the normal rules didn’t apply here. He had to try, for his brother’s sake.

“Well you didn’t do a very good job, did you? She was only a young girl. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

_Think of Combeferre and his family. Think of Grantaire... Oh god, don’t think of Grantaire._

“Yes, and I am. I never meant for anyone to get hurt. It was supposed to be a peaceful protest.”

The old man scoffed loudly. “Rubbish! No such thing. You went looking for trouble and you got it. Well I can tell you this much, we don’t want any of that nonsense around here. Do you hear me?”

Enjolras took a long deep breath before he spoke. It was easy to keep his voice calm and controlled. This, at least, was somewhat familiar territory. Unfortunate, but familiar. “I can assure you that you have nothing to worry about. I am only here for the holidays with my family. I just want a nice quiet break. You don’t have any need for concern.”

The old man leaned in a little closer and scowled. “Hmm. Supposed to take your word for that, am I?”

“Respectfully I would like to say that you don’t really have a choice. Now, if you don’t mind, I will wish you goodnight and be on my way.”

“I’ll be watching you lad,” the old man called as Enjolras headed to the counter and a very wide eyed and open-mouthed cashier. “We get any trouble and I’ll know just where to find you.”

Of all the threats Enjolras had ever received, which were plentiful anyway, it was probably the least threatening of all, yet right here and right now, it held the most potential for danger.

*


	10. "How Long Before The Judgement Day?"

Apparently, there was no quiet way of dragging a heavy suitcase down a set of stairs. By the time it had bumped over the last step, Courfeyrac had appeared from the front room and met Enjolras by the front door, taking in the sight before him with a confused frown.

“What the- where are you going?”

Enjolras’ hands were shaking as he plucked his coat off the hook by the door and pushed his arms into the sleeves. It was one of those times when he knew he had to do the right thing but if he allowed himself even a moment of weakness, he would start to crack; one of those times when he had to follow his head and not his heart.

“I’ve gotta go home Courf. This wasn’t a good idea at all. I’m sorry.”

“Back up a minute Enj. You’re going home _now_? What’s happened? Did you argue?”

It took Enjolras a moment to realise he was talking about Grantaire and it stung like poison to his blood. Right now, he wasn’t strong enough to let himself think about Grantaire in any way but if Courfeyrac was assuming the man was somehow involved in his decision to leave, perhaps it was easier to let him think that. He couldn’t go into details right at this very moment. Talking too much would chip away at the already questionable wall of strength he was trying to lean on.

“I will ring you when I get home. Tell Ferre… tell him…” If Enjolras was grateful for anything in that moment it was that his brother was out collecting his son from a friend’s house. It made this a lot easier.

Courfeyrac crossed his arms and glared at Enjolras. “I’m telling him nothing and you’re going nowhere. Now for fuck’s sake tell me what’s going on and stop being so bloody ridiculous.”

It was rare that Courfeyrac lost his temper but Enjolras could feel the anger bristling in his voice and he didn’t blame him; if anything it was welcome. It was easier to leave if he wasn’t wanted. Everything happened at once then; the sound of a car pulling up on the driveway alerted them with a beep of its horn and Azelma called for her Dad from the front room where, apparently, it was his turn to move with their game and he was taking too long.

“I’ll be there in a second sweetheart,” Courfeyrac called and when he looked at Enjolras, there was the addition of fear in his eyes now. “Enj, please… You can’t do this to the kids. It’ll break their hearts.”

“That’s my taxi outside,” said Enjolras, hating the tears that were burning in his eyes. “I know you’re all going to hate me for this but believe me, I am doing it for you. I’m doing it because I love you all so much and I can’t risk… can’t put you in danger…”

Courfeyrac grabbed both his arms and lowered his voice. “I don’t know what’s happened but you don’t need to leave right at this moment. At least wait until tomorrow and talk it through before you go. Please.”

“I can’t. My train leaves in an hour and there isn’t another one until tomorrow night.”

“ _DADDY!!”_ Azelma’s voice was growing more agitated at his increased absence.

“Give me five minutes. Just five minutes, Enj. You owe me that at least. Let me just get her settled and then talk to me and if you still want to go, I will drive you to the station myself, ok?”

Enjolras held his brother in law’s gaze and answered with a quick nod of his head, at which Courfeyrac turned and disappeared into the front room and Enjolras waited for the count of five before he took a deep breath and opened the door.

*

There had been very few moments in Enjolras’ life that felt lower than being stood on the station platform that night with a suitcase by his feet and the tears drying on his face as soon as they spilled out of his eyes. He couldn’t think about any of them or he would crumble. Leaving without saying goodbye was bad enough, but torturing himself by imagining the looks on the faces of his niece and nephew when they realised their Uncle had run out on them before Christmas was excruciating. How were they to know he was doing it for their own good? For their protection? How could he ever live with himself if he brought trouble right to their doorstep? They deserved to be safe in their own home and he could no longer guarantee that while he was in it too. All it took was for this to get out and he knew from experience that once one person knew, it spread like wildfire.

Thoughts of Gavroche and Azelma were killing him, thoughts of his brother and Courfeyrac weren’t much easier and thoughts of Grantaire… _oh god._

His eyes had filled with fresh tears and he had no will to even try and stop them when he was suddenly wrenched around by the arm in one harsh movement that brought him face to face with his brother. The anger in Combeferre’s expression was so intense that the sight of the tears in Enjolras’ eyes did nothing to soften it.

“You better have a fucking good excuse for this.”

“Ferre-“

“I get a frantic phone call from Courf saying you’re on your way to catch a train home, I have to lie to Gavroche and beg his friend’s mum to look after him for a while longer while I come down here to find you and you just stand there like… like… I swear to god, Enj, I could fucking swing for you right now.”

Despite it all, there was no denying the little trickle of relief that ran through Enjolras at his brother’s sudden appearance and it was that very thing which made him finally lose his fragile hold on the rapidly waning resolve to be strong. For the first time in months, possibly even years, he gave in and allowed the cascade of tears to overwhelm him as he threw his arms around his brother and clung to him. Combeferre staggered back a little with the force and the surprise of his brother’s action but still brought an arm up around his back and held them both steady, stunned into silence for a moment.

“Right, come on, lets get out of here,” said Combeferre when Enjolras seemed to have got the flow of tears subdued into a sniffling whimper and he picked up his brother’s suitcase and started back towards the car park.

*

The only light was from a nearby streetlamp that shed a light orange beam through the back windscreen of Combeferre’s car. It was going on for nearly ten minutes of silence, during which time Enjolras had shrunk down into the corner of his seat, buried his chin in his coat and kept his eyes on the floor. Combeferre had waited patiently but when it became vividly clear that the younger brother had no intention of saying anything anytime soon, he sighed and reached over him to open the glovebox.

“Screw this,” he said and took out a packet of cigarettes, shaking two of them free and pulling a lighter from his pocket. It was enough to make Enjolras look up with the slightest hint of intrigue to shake him from his stupor.

“But you stopped,” he mumbled as he took the lit cigarette that was offered to him and held it motionless between his fingers.

Combeferre lowered the windows, letting in a sudden rush of cold air into the car as he took a long drag on his cigarette and breathed it out into the night before he looked back at his brother. “Why do you think I always have mints in the car? Don’t tell Courf. What are you grinning about?”

“Nothing,” said Enjolras with a soft laugh.

“Well at least you’re smiling… and talking. Progress.”

Enjolras took a drag on his own cigarette before he finally locked eyes with his brother and smiled guiltily. “I’m sorry Ferre. I’m a shit brother.”

“Enough with the pity party Enj. Just tell me what the hell this is all about.”

There didn’t seem any way to avoid it now, nor reason to. “I was recognised. Some old guy in the village saw me the other day when I was out running and tonight again in the shop. Gave me the usual crap.”

Combeferre stared at him incredulously, forgetting all about the ash that was mounting on the tip of his cigarette and threatening to drop onto his lap at any moment. “Am I hearing this right? You are running away with your tail between your legs because some old git had a go at you in a shop? Who the hell are you and what have you done with my real brother?”

Enjolras shook his head and looked away. “It’s not that simple.”

“Go on then,” Combeferre prompted but when Enjolras didn’t respond, he leaned closer to his brother and continued in a gentler tone. “Enj, you never run from anything, least of all something as insignificant as this. What on earth is going on?”

“It’s not insignificant when it happens here, with you and your family and… well, it’s different when it’s just me I’m putting in danger. I can deal with that.”

“How much danger do you think we are in at the hands of one pissed off old guy in the village? I mean, come on Enj, even Zel could probably fend him off.”

Enjolras smiled instinctively. “You’re missing the point Ferre. It’s not about that one guy. It’s how it snowballs from there. You don’t realise how quickly it can escalate.”

“Ok, but even if you had the whole village after you with pitchforks, it still wouldn’t compare with some of the things you’ve taken on in the past. I know you wouldn’t run, no matter how big the threat.”

“Yeah, when it’s a threat to _ME,_ ” said Enjolras pointedly. “It’s not about pissing people off. I can deal with that in my sleep. It’s the fact that I’ve had death threats and all sorts of shit this time because of… well, everything that happened. If the people who are after me find out that I’m here with you and they know you’re my family, they will try and use you to get to me and I’m not letting that happen. I can’t risk you and Courf and the kids and… and…”

“And?”

Enjolras looked out of the window as he took another drag on his cigarette. “And nothing.”

It was cowardly but he had no energy left to even think about approaching the subject of Grantaire with his brother right then.

A few moments of heavy silence passed before Combeferre flicked his cigarette butt out the window and turned the key in the ignition. “Do your seatbelt up. We’re going home now.”

“Ferre, wait-“

“No, you listen to me Enjolras,” the older man said, turning to face his brother with a steely look of determination that was like looking in a mirror. “I won’t put my children in danger but nor will I turn my back on you. Despite the fact that you’re an infuriating idiot at times, you’re still my little brother and whatever crap you get yourself into, I will help you get out of because I always have, haven’t I?”

“Yeah, but-“

“But nothing. You don’t have to face this alone. If it gets bad, we will have a rethink about how to approach it. I don’t know, maybe we can put you at a friend’s house while you’re here. One of my mates in the city perhaps; they would help out. But let’s cross that bridge if we come to it. I think you’re probably panicking over nothing. But either way, you’re not running, and especially not from me. Got it?”

Enjolras nodded in defeat and let out a long sigh as he clicked his seatbelt into place. He was too tired to argue anymore and truth be told, he didn’t really want to anyway.

“Good. Now pass me those mints.”

*

It was the next day before Enjolras discovered that Grantaire had also made a sudden departure, but of a substantially less dramatic nature.

Exhaustion had seen him crash almost as soon as they had got back to the house and it was nearly noon before he rose to find Grantaire’s dog was in the house but her owner wasn’t. Combeferre was at work, the kids at school and nursery and Courfeyrac was sat at his desk in the front room with Missy laying across his feet when Enjolras appeared. He stood in the doorway in his pyjamas, rubbing his eyes and feeling groggy from too much sleep, and questioned the presence of the dog with a nod towards her when Courfeyrac looked up from his work.

“R dropped her off late last night,” Courfeyrac explained. “He had a call to say his Aunt had been rushed into hospital. Suspected heart attack or something. I would have told you sooner but… well… clearly you needed the sleep. Hope you’re feeling better for it today?”

“Is he ok?” Enjolras asked because it was all that mattered in that moment. The realisation that Grantaire had suffered – _was suffering_ – and he wasn’t with him felt like a sledgehammer to his stomach. He didn’t expect it at all and had no idea how to hide the effect of it, which was apparently obvious from the kind smile Courfeyrac gave him.

“He’s fine, don’t worry. I don’t think they’re really that close actually but she doesn’t have anyone else close by so he’s doing the dutiful nephew bit and visiting her. He’ll likely be back by tomorrow at the latest. Until then we’ve got the pleasure of dog-sitting.”

As if she knew, Missy raised her head to look at Enjolras who crouched down to rub her ears. It was hard to believe this was the same dog that had attacked him on their first meeting. Perhaps she recognised when someone shared her affection for her owner; animals had good instincts, so they said. When Enjolras made his way to the kitchen to make coffee, she got up and followed him and didn’t leave his side for the rest of the day.

It fell to Enjolras to take up the temporary job of dog walking which he was all too happy to do anyway because it made him feel like he was actually doing something useful to help Grantaire, in his own small way. And he knew that it was just his paranoia acting up again when he felt like he was being watched and followed as they made their way along the forest trail. After everything that had gone on recently, it was probably normal to be a bit skittish, but it didn’t help when Missy seemed to be aware of an unseen threat as well and kept pricking up her ears and darting her head from one way to another as they walked. When a rambler appeared on the path and she pulled on her lead to get a closer inspection as they passed, Enjolras relaxed a little and then silently admonished himself for being so jumpy. _Get a grip, Enj._

*

Combeferre seemed to think that as a whole day had passed and there had been no angry mob turn up on their doorstep that they were in the clear, a theory his husband also supported and whether or not they really believed it, Enjolras certainly knew better. He had lived the last ten years of his life like this; perhaps not on this scale before or with such disastrous repercussions but he knew all too well that once a spark of anger hit the embers, it didn’t take long for the flames to be fanned. Though he had agreed to stay for the time being, he could no longer fully relax, a factor which seemed to have been significantly increased by Grantaire’s absence. If anything good had come out of the whole situation with the stranger, however, it was that Enjolras felt closer to his brother than he had in many years.

“Enj, you are being completely played right now, you know that right? She can walk!”

As he stepped out onto the playing field with Azelma in his arms, Enjolras looked back over his shoulder at his brother and grinned. “She’s cold!”

“She’s not cold. She’s lazy. And she knows her Uncle is a soft touch,” Combeferre said and rolled his eyes when Enjolras answered him with a wink.

The temperature was dropping quickly but it was Gavroche’s last game of the season and they weren’t going to miss it, particularly as it was the first one Enjolras had attended in over a year. Azelma was content to stay snuggled in her Uncle’s arms as they stood at the side of the pitch, which clearly had nothing to do with the fact that he was happy to hold her for the entirety of the match and sneak chocolate to her from his coat pocket. One thing Enjolras knew nothing about was hockey but he could have happily stood there for hours watching the game with his family, feeling wanted and feeling like he belonged.

“Is he always this brutal?” Enjolras whispered to his brother as they watched Gavroche effortlessly tackle the ball from another child with a loud thwacking of sticks before he took off across the field with a skilful swiftness that left the other child looking like he was about to burst into tears.

“It’s because you’re here. He’s trying to impress you,” said Combeferre with a grimace.

“Although to be fair he’s always pretty intense,” Courfeyrac added. “But yeah, he’s definitely showing off for you.”

Enjolras felt a rush of pride and squeezed Azelma closer in his arms. Was it possible he had never really appreciated how much it meant to be an Uncle to these kids? Since he had arrived for this stay, it was certainly the most amount of time he had ever spent with them in one go. And his brothers weren’t lying when they told him how much these kids loved him; it was clear to him now and he felt guilty that he’d never given more in return. Although perhaps it wasn’t too late to do something about that.

“He’s got some serious skills,” Enjolras observed as he watched the game unfold dictated by Gavroche and a couple of others on his team; so much so that if it had been anyone other than his nephew playing, he might have even felt sorry for the other team in their savage annihilation. “Can see him doing this for a living one day.”

Combeferre exchanged a look with his husband, which didn’t go unnoticed by Enjolras who laughed and said, “What is it?”

“You tell him,” Courfeyrac said with a smirk.

With a similar expression of amusement on his face, Combeferre turned to his younger brother. “He doesn’t want to play for England anymore. Apparently, that’s now the back-up plan.”

“Really? In what world is playing for the England hockey team a back-up plan?” Enjolras laughed.

“In one where there are more important things that he can do to help people like, and I quote, ‘ _Uncle Enj does with his alphabet club_.’ “

On the sparse occasions that Enjolras had been around Gavroche over the years, he had always been careful not to mention the ABC Society but hearing these words from his brother now both scared and warmed his heart in equal measures. “Oh god, I’m sorry. Leading him astray and I didn’t even know.”

“It’s fine,” said Combeferre and really seemed to mean it. There was even a hint of pride on his face and it wasn’t immediately obvious whether it was meant for his son or his brother. “It’s good that he wants to help people. Just don’t be taking him out there on protest marches against fascists, yeah? Maybe help him find a less confrontational way to make a difference.”

Enjolras felt an overwhelming swell of pride and looked back out to his nephew who caught his eye and flashed a wide grin from behind his mouthguard. God how he loved these kids!

“You haven’t heard the best of it yet,” Courfeyrac said, making his husband scoff at the implied memory. “He got pulled into the headmaster’s office last week for fighting with another boy. Some little shit from his class who had beat up a younger boy for coming into school wearing make-up. Apparently Gav found him and some other kids giving this boy a hard time and decided to ‘ _teach him a lesson’.”_

Enjolras pressed his lips together and wrinkled his nose. “Is it wrong that I’m actually proud of him for that?”

“That’s what we said,” Combeferre said in a lowered voice. “Not to his face though, of course. We explained to him that it was good to defend people who were being treated badly but that he needed to find the right way to do it.”

“Why do I feel there’s a hidden message in there for me too?” Enjolras smirked at his brother who rolled his eyes and sniggered.

Azelma had been so quiet with her head leant on Enjolras’ shoulder that she drew the attention of all three of the men when she looked up and called, “Uncle R!”

In unison, they all turned to look in the direction she was now waving her arms to see Grantaire making his way through the other spectators towards their little gathering on the side-lines. Enjolras felt so suddenly weakened by just the sight of the man that he felt the strain of the child in his arms for the first time. It was probably just his imagination but he could also swear that Courfeyrac was now watching him discreetly too and when the man quietly took his daughter out of Enjolras’ arms, he didn’t protest.

“You’re back then! How is your Aunt?” Combeferre greeted Grantaire as he approached them.

“She’ll live,” he answered with the briefest look at his friend before his eyes went straight to Enjolras and exchanged a smile that ended them both instantly. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Enjolras said, forgetting the other two men even existed for a long moment when there was nothing in the world except Grantaire looking at him and smiling. It was only when his brother started talking again that he caught himself and forced his eyes back to the game. He didn’t want to be a shit Uncle right now, despite the tempting distraction of this beautiful man.

“You can’t have been back long,” Combeferre noted. “You didn’t need to come here. We explained to Gav what had happened and that you’d have to miss it. He was fine.”

There passed a moment of silence when Grantaire tried and failed to take his eyes off Enjolras.

Combeferre looked from one to the other, shook his head and smiled softly. “Or is it not Gav you’re here to see?”

Enjolras’ eyes shot anxiously to his brothers’ and the relief when he saw the knowing smile was so immense that he wanted to throw his arms around him and cry for the second time in two days. Neither man said anything but Combeferre rubbed his brother’s shoulder affectionately as he moved to stand next to his husband and free up the space beside Enjolras which Grantaire immediately filled.

Grantaire and Enjolras looked at each other and the awkward silence that the other two men fell into was noticeable by all four of them. It was a relief when one of Gavroche’s teammates scored a goal and the crowd erupted in cheer.

Taking the opportunity while his voice was masked by the noise, Grantaire held Enjolras’ gaze and said quietly, “Missed you.”

But Enjolras didn’t answer in words. Instead, he ran his hand down Grantaire’s arm and linked their hands together, making the other man smile as he moved a little closer. Stood there with his hand in Grantaire’s, his brother and Courfeyrac by his side and the two children he adored both present as well, Enjolras felt good.

He felt really good.


	11. "The Music Of Angels, The Light Of The Sun"

Enjolras had been stood in front of the wall staring at it in wonder for so long that he had become desensitised to the rest of his surroundings. So much so that when Grantaire’s arms slid around his waist from behind, he flinched with shock.

“Sorry,” said Grantaire, laughing softly into Enjolras’ shoulder as he curled his arms tighter around the man’s waist and snuggled against his back. “What had you so deep in thought?”

“Is it not obvious? Your work is amazing! I just can’t get over how talented you are,” said Enjolras as he covered the other man’s arms with his own and leaned his head back against the warm support of Grantaire’s neck. He was starting to really love moments like this; unexpected, unplanned, stolen little random moments of affection. It felt so new and good, and it inevitably led to sex, considering that he couldn’t seem to tolerate more than a few minutes of this man’s touch before he grew hard and started losing control once again. And Enjolras loved that too.

“If you hadn’t noticed, you don’t need to sweet talk me to get into my pants. But thanks.”

“And you say _I’m_ bad at taking compliments?” Enjolras quipped and laughed when he felt the hot puff of air that was exhaled onto his neck. “I mean, just look at this!”

In all honestly, he would have told Grantaire anything to make him happy but Enjolras really meant the words he was saying. He had seen other pieces of his art work because it was all around the house and impossible to be in the building for more than ten minutes and not have the eye drawn to something he had created. This full wall mural however had been hidden away in what was apparently a dining room without a dining table and Enjolras had not seen it until today.

“I don’t know how you have the patience for something like this,” said Enjolras as he reached out a hand to trace the vein like feathers of a winged horse with his fingertips. It was climbing majestically through some very fluffy looking clouds and though there was a beautiful sheen to its elegant skin, there were battle scars around its legs that were downright gruesome in comparison. The wings were without a doubt the most eye-catching feature though. The more he stared at the creature, the more detail he noticed.

“Pfft. This coming from a guy who once handcuffed himself to the railings outside a factory for 24 hours?”

Enjolras glanced over his shoulder and received another of the trademark winks that made him shudder. “They were refusing to give their female members of staff equal pay to the men. It was disgraceful. I couldn’t turn my back when they asked me to help. And anyway, how do you know about that?”

“Ferre talks about you a lot. Very proud big brother. Although you didn’t hear that from me.”

The shock of that statement stunned Enjolras into silence and his eye wandered back to the mural. There was so much colour and detail, it was hard not to be drawn back. It was like being drugged by a painting.

“So… you still have the handcuffs then?” Grantaire added in as suggestive a tone as was possible and began feathering soft kisses across Enjolras’ shoulders.

“You’re insatiable,” Enjolras replied with a smile as he felt the other man’s hips grind against his behind. “Who’s this guy up here?” He asked, pointing at a figure higher up the wall who had very similar wings to the horse but a male body and seemed to be caught in the explosive rays of a huge burning sun. It was almost uncomfortable to perceive the pain in the way his bloodied body writhed against the fire that captured the tips of his wings.

Grantaire sighed with obvious frustration and released Enjolras from his arms. “That’s Icarus. More Greek mythology.”

Enjolras ran his hand over the image of the man and withdrew his fingers quickly as if they’d been burned by the paint. “It’s haunting… Why is he on fire?”

“He flew too close to the sun and burned his wings and then plummeted to his death.”

Turning away from the mural, Enjolras watched Grantaire as he busied himself repositioning the throw and cushions over the gigantic beanbag that was nestled in one corner of the room before collapsing down onto it with a sigh. It was often now that Enjolras was finding himself captivated by the depth and beauty of this man, both outer and inner forms, and it left him speechless. He was standing with his back to the wall staring at him with such longing and affection that he forgot to move until Grantaire held out his arms invitingly. Enjolras had folded himself into the embrace within a moment, feeling how he seemed to melt against the contours of the other man’s warm body.

“Why Icarus then? Seems a bit of a random choice,” he said and started smiling to himself when he felt Grantaire’s hand playing with his hair.

“Just seemed to fit with how the rest of it was going. And I guess I see myself in him a bit.”

Enjolras raised his face to look in Grantaire’s eyes. “In what way?”

He shrugged and looked unfamiliarly coy before answering the question. “I guess I get burnt easily… moth to a flame sort of thing. I never learn my lesson when my heart gets involved. Seems even more appropriate now, Apollo.”

It took Enjolras a good few seconds of thoughtful silence to join the dots. “Are you implying that I’m the flame?”

“My greek god of sunlight, why would you think that?” The mischievous grin had returned to his face as he leant close enough to press a gentle kiss to Enjolras’ lips but the recipient was a lot less submissive than normal in his response, wriggling around to prop himself up on his elbows so he could get a better view of Grantaire’s face.

“You honestly think I would… burn you?” He asked again, and there was a hint of hurt accusation in his tone that he couldn’t disguise.

“Not on purpose, no. Don’t look so offended. It’s not a statement about you, it’s more about me. I know you’re not just after me for cock. Makes a nice change from most guys, I have to say. But you’re not like most guys,” Grantaire said and then pulled Enjolras back into his arms and tangled their legs together to keep him there. “Oh, and that’s supposed to be a compliment by the way. I suggest you accept this one.”

But Enjolras hadn’t even heard it anyway. “I would never burn you. I would never burn anyone… Not on purpose anyway.”

“Hey, I didn’t say you would. You can be very sensitive, you know that? And not just when you get kissed on that one spot on your inner thigh that makes you tremble.” There was a familiar teasing tone to Grantaire’s voice and he waited for the inevitable chiding but it never came. “Enj? What’s wrong?”

It had never happened before and it hit Enjolras so hard that it winded him and made his stomach churn with sickness. Logically he knew he was still safe and comfortable in Grantaire’s arms but he wasn’t in the room anymore; his senses were vividly alive with the memories of that day of the May riots. The images of people pushing and shoving, the flashes of colour somewhere in the distance and the screams that were drawing attention towards it, the bright red dress she was wearing, the bright red blood, the way there was no way to distinguish between the two… The acrid sickening smell of burning, the shrill screaming of the spectators who had seen it happen, the haunting howl of pain that was coming from the girl’s mouth through the shield of her hands… He was there, watching it unfold before him all over again and just as helpless to do anything to stop it now as he had been then.

“ _Oh god…_ ” The sound of his own voice was as feeble as it sounded in his heavy head. The sickness was rising from his stomach into his throat and his head felt like it was suffering the effect of a whole bottle of brandy as he fell away from Grantaire onto his hands and knees and scrambled inelegantly to get up on shaking legs.

“What the fuck are you… Enj, you’re scaring me. What’s the matter?” Grantaire had followed him to his feet and was trying to catch hold of Enjolras’ arms to hold him still as he staggered forwards and clapped a hand tightly over his mouth. The man had gone deathly pale and there was a look in his eyes that had never been there for Grantaire to see before; it was more than the nervous wide-eyed expression of fear he had become used to, this was sheer numb terror.

Enjolras glanced fleetingly at the man who was holding him steady, not really seeing him over the now brutally clear image of the girl who was burning in agony right before his eyes. “I can’t… I have to go… I need to stop it… I didn’t stop it.”

“Didn’t stop what? Fuck’s sake, will you please just tell me what the hell this is all about?”

It came up through his body like a hot wave of pain that was burning him from the inside out and when it started leaking out of his eyes, his face contorted in the pain of it and he fell forward onto Grantaire and clung to him with clutching, desperate hands.

“Woah, ok, I got you. It’s all right, I’m here,” Grantaire soothed as he brought his arms around Enjolras to hold him and didn’t dare move or utter another word until the noise of his wracking sobs had begun to die down. He had no idea what had brought it on and Enjolras was clearly too hysterical to explain right at that moment but neither of these facts mattered in the immediate. Enjolras was upset and he needed support; that was all he needed to know.

It was some time before the intensity of his outburst seemed to subside and Enjolras was left weakened and exhausted by it, leaning his full weight into the support of the man who was holding him up, arms still clinging loosely, his head leant heavily on Grantaire’s shoulder.

“Enjolras… are you ok?” Grantaire’s words were the first sound to break the silence and for that reason sounded much louder than the softness he had intended with them.

“Fuck… sorry,” Enjolras sniffled, trying to gather himself as he pulled away from the embrace that had been keeping him upright. He rubbed a hand under his nose as he turned away from Grantaire and stumbled out of the room.

Grantaire followed him as he made his way quietly into the kitchen, grabbed a glass from the drainer, filled it with water and drank it all in one go.

“What was that about?”

Enjolras was still stood at the sink, leaning against it with the empty glass grasped in his hand and a washed out look of dejection on his face as he made eye contact with Grantaire across the room. He inhaled a long breath before he spoke. “I just… I started reliving it. One minute I’m laying there talking about… the sun, or painting, or whatever… and the next I’m in London seven months ago, watching that girl get acid thrown in her face. Fucking hell, I could even smell her skin burning… I’ve never had it replay like that before.”

“Shit. That must have been awful.”

“I don’t think awful comes close to describing what she went through,” said Enjolras flatly. “Or is still going through, no doubt.”

“Yeah, but I was actually referring to you. Seeing something that horrific happen right in front of you. No wonder it’s stayed with you.”

“I deserve to suffer.” It was a statement and it was said with such confident acceptance that Grantaire felt almost treacherous for daring to disagree for a moment.

“Enj, you do not deserve to suffer,” he said, walking over to the other man and taking the glass out of his grasp so he could replace it with his hands. “You can’t spend the rest of your life beating yourself up over this. _YOU_ weren’t the one who threw it at her. You were the one who, if I have been informed correctly, beat the shit out of the guy who did it and his mates and…”

“And started a fucking riot,” Enjolras finished the sentence and scoffed in disgust. “And got myself thrown in prison and gave the cause a bad name, and let my friends down, and let Ferre down, and didn’t make the slightest bit of difference to that girl’s pain.”

“Because you were trying to defend an innocent victim. Isn’t that what the cause is all about? _Fighting for those who can’t fight for themselves._ That’s the tagline, isn’t it?”

In spite of the deadening sadness, Enjolras couldn’t help but smile a little and grip Grantaire’s hands tighter within his own. “You have looked at the website?”

“Of course I have. It’s something that’s important to you. I wanted to know all about it.”

Another wave of emotion rose through Enjolras as he held the other man’s gaze and watched him, but it wasn’t the unpleasant toxicity of shame, fear, panic or hatred this time. Quite the opposite in fact.

“You are amazing, you know that, right? I… I….” _I what??_ The words that flashed through his head were not an option to say aloud. “Thank you… for everything.”

“Stop being so soft, you’re making me melt,” Grantaire said with a gentle laugh as he draped his arms across Enjolras’ shoulders and leant in for a kiss.

*

Enjolras was trying not to think about how much he hated spending a single night away from Grantaire now and fortunately he didn’t have to for the time being. For the most part, they were both at Ferre and Courf’s house because Enjolras wanted to spend as much time as he could with his family but on these occasions, nights on the sofa were now officially a thing of the past for Grantaire and though it felt a little awkward at first, he soon became used to emerging from Enjolras’ bedroom in the morning and sharing coffee in the kitchen with the guys. Perhaps once or twice a week, they spent a blissful night alone together at Grantaire’s house instead which was enjoyable for a whole new set of reasons.

Within weeks, it had become so normal and expected that where Enjolras was, Grantaire was also, that on the rare occasions when this wasn’t the case, everyone noticed it.

“Answer me one question Enj,” Courfeyrac’s muffled voice came from where he was leaning over the washing machine, pulling out a heap of clean clothes. “Why am I washing your boyfriend’s underwear?”

From where Enjolras was sat on top of the worktop in the utility room, idly pulling at bobbles of wool on the sweater in his hands, he looked up to catch his brother in law’s smirk and grimaced. “Yeah, sorry. But just for the record, you’re not supposed to be doing my washing either.”

“So the alternative is leaving the big pile of clothes on your bedroom floor and having to lend you even more stuff out of our wardrobe? Fuck, I’ve inherited a teenage son,” Courfeyrac said and laughed when Enjolras balled up the sweater he was holding and launched it at his head. “Anyway, why are you following me around like a lost puppy today? Where’s your other half? And I mean that literally, seeing as you seem to have permanently morphed into one person over the last few weeks.”

“He’s got work to catch up on. I feel kind of bad about it actually. I think I’ve been taking up way too much of his time.”

“Yeah, doesn’t look like he minds one bit from where I’m standing,” Courfeyrac said as he held out a basket full of washing and waited for Enjolras to take it from him. “While you’re free you can make yourself useful folding these.”

Glad of something to keep himself busy, Enjolras got to his feet and started folding the clothes into a pile on the worktop but he could feel himself being watched as he worked quietly and when he looked over his shoulder, Courfeyrac was staring at him with a smile on his face. “What?”

“You’re so lost without him!” the other man remarked and laughed. “Next you’re gonna be offering to cook dinner so you can continue the pining while you’re peeling potatoes.”

Enjolras glared at him but Courfeyrac just winked and returned to where he was reloading the washing machine.

“I’m not that bad am I?”

“Head over heels, Enj. It’s sweet as fuck. Not that I’m surprised or anything. We both knew this would happen.”

“Both?”

“Ferre and I,” Courfeyrac explained and waited for Enjolras to finish what he was doing before he crossed the room to him and gently turned the man by the arm to face him. “Tell me we’re wrong.”

“About what?”

He rolled his eyes animatedly before answering the question around a smile. “That you aren’t hopelessly in love with our next door neighbour.”

Considering he had been outed as an open book shortly after his arrival, there seemed no point in denying it and Enjolras didn’t want to anyway because he had spent so many days now hearing the words churn around in his head, it was such a relief to be able to say them aloud. “Fucking hell Courf, I love the guy so much it actually hurts. Is it supposed to be this painful?”

Courfeyrac laughed softly and drew Enjolras into his arms for a quick hug. “Does he know?”

“Fuck no. I’m not crazy.”

“Why would you say that? Don’t you think he feels the same?”

“I dunno… maybe,” said Enjolras vaguely because he genuinely hadn’t even considered it before then. That someone as amazing as Grantaire could reciprocate love for someone as screwed up as him; was that even possible outside of fiction?

“As your older and wiser brother in law and someone who cares about you a lot, I would strongly recommend that you tell him how you feel, Enj. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

Enjolras threw the other man a bemused frown. “Hang on, aren’t you supposed to be telling me to… I don’t know… tread carefully or go slowly or something and be less… less me?”

“You should never be less you, Enj. And anyway, I’m not Ferre. He has to play the over cautious protective brother, he doesn’t know how not to. But he wants you to be happy too. And you would have to be blind not to see how happy this guy makes you. So yeah, listen to Ferre when he says all the right things but don’t ignore your own intuition too. It won’t lead you astray.”

Enjolras fell into a thoughtful silence while he processed Courfeyrac’s words. When he didn’t answer, the other man patted him on the shoulder and left him alone in the room, perhaps purposely, but after a moment, Enjolras followed him out into the kitchen where he found him taking a can of beer out of the fridge.

“Want one?” Courfeyrac asked while he was there and when Enjolras nodded, he passed one of the cans into his hand.

“I can’t fall in love with someone who lives the other side of the country.”

Enjolras was still holding his unopened can and looking lost in thought but Courfeyrac took a long swig from his before he replied. “I think it’s a bit late for that, don’t you? Don’t overthink it, Enj. If he feels the same way, you can find a way to make it work. You’ll just have to drive up for weekends or something. It’s better than nothing. And it means we get to see you more as well so that’ll be good. Talk to him and see if you’re on the same page. Like I said, I don’t think you have anything to fear with that.”

Whether or not Courfeyrac was right about that, he was certainly right about the fact that they needed to have that conversation. And Enjolras knew immediately when the right chance would present itself. Tomorrow, his brothers were taking the kids to a pantomime and Grantaire was coming round to help him prepare dinner for when they got back. There would be a good few hours when they had the house to themselves and Enjolras knew if he could resist the urge to keep his hands off him for a while, they could use it to talk and maybe he could say the words he so desperately wanted to say.

Of course, Combeferre hadn’t been offended when Enjolras had turned down the offer to add two more tickets onto the booking so that he and Grantaire could accompany them and now Enjolras was even more glad that he had done so.

It was a decision he would always end up regretting.

*


	12. "I Am Lost, I Am Found"

_I love you._

Apparently the words were a lot easier to think than they were to say.

Grantaire had been in the house alone with him for a whole hour already and the nearest Enjolras had got was growling _“you look so fucking hot today”_ as he tore the other man’s clothes off and pushed him down onto the sofa. The lingering high that kept intoxicating him long after any orgasm Grantaire gave him was over kept his brain in a permanent state of incoherent mush. He was well and truly drugged by this man.

“I thought the sofa was off limits?” Grantaire said, getting to his feet and pulling on his jeans as he grinned down at Enjolras who was still stretched out lazily against the cushions.

“Only when the others are home. Rules don’t apply when we have the house to ourselves.”

“So I could bend you over Courf’s desk or throw you down on the kitchen table? Good to know,” said Grantaire as he pulled his t-shirt back over his head, scooped up Enjolras’ clothes from the floor and dropped them onto his stomach. “Get dressed, you tart. We’ve got dinner to prepare.”

Enjolras had no inclination whatsoever to move and if Grantaire had stayed on the sofa with him, he likely wouldn’t have done until the very last moment when it would have been a mad rush to cook anything edible before the others got home. Luckily, one of them was thinking with a clear mind and when Enjolras finally got dressed and made his way to the kitchen, he found Grantaire stood in front of the sink, scraping a bowl full of vegetables and singing to himself as he worked. He hadn’t heard Enjolras enter the room and so the other man stood quietly in the doorway, smiling to himself as he watched the man he was so crazy about singing out of tune.

“Is that a Kylie song?”

Grantaire dropped the potato he was scraping back into the water with a splash and turned around to stick his tongue out at the other man. “Shut up, she’s a diva. Anyway, we’re gay men. Isn’t she supposed to be our queen?”

Enjolras laughed as he moved to Grantaire and wrapped his arms around his waist. “I’m obviously not as up on gay culture as you are! You’ll have to educate me.”

“Anytime. What would you like a lesson on, Sir?”

“Well that depends what’s on offer,” said Enjolras as he slipped his hands under Grantaire’s top and stroked them up over his stomach as he started kissing his neck.

“Fuck’s sake, control yourself,” said Grantaire with a teasing laugh as he struggled to hide the shiver that crept up through his body.

“Kiss me and I’ll leave you alone.”

“I might not then.” Grantaire’s hands were still wet and gritty from the muddy water as he turned around in Enjolras’ arms and held the man’s face as he kissed him, laughing as he stroked the dirt that was clinging to his fingers onto Enjolras’ skin.

“You fucker,” Enjolras whispered between kisses before he drew the other man’s tongue hungrily back into his mouth.

They were still in this position when the doorbell rang.

“Leave it,” Grantaire whispered as Enjolras started to pull away from him.

“Can’t,” Enjolras returned with a smile as he felt himself being drawn back again and had to find the willpower to untangle Grantaire’s arms from around his waist. “It’s probably the post and Ferre’s waiting for some presents for the kids to arrive.”

As he walked away, Enjolras glanced back over his shoulder to throw a _hold that thought, I’ll be right back_ wink to Grantaire who was watching him with a smile but the distraction of the visitor who was waiting outside soon drew his attention away when he opened the door.

“Can I help you?” Enjolras was instantly wary of the middle aged man who was fidgeting restlessly on the doorstep and breathing heavily as if he’d just finished a long run. It was made worse when the guy made eye contact with him and a look of knowing passed over his face. His eyes grew wide and filled with a look of rage that Enjolras knew only too well.

“So it is you then,” he snarled as he stepped a determined foot over the threshold with such sudden force that Enjolras instinctively stepped backwards to move away from him, inadvertently allowing the man entry into the house. “I fucking knew I’d track you down eventually.”

“Ok, I’m guessing you’re someone who’s pissed at me about London but you can’t just turn up on my brother’s doorstep like this,” Enjolras began and tried to usher the guy back out of the house but he was having none of it, slamming the door shut behind him and shoving Enjolras further into the hallway.

“Don’t even try and start with me, you little shit!” he spat as he shoved Enjolras so hard that he had to catch hold of the stair rail to stop himself from toppling over with the force of it. “You are gonna listen to what I’ve got to say, you hear me? That’s the least you owe me after what you’ve done to me and my family!”

Enjolras was used to dealing with confrontation against various individuals who he had unwittingly pissed off over the years and it didn’t worry him on this occasion until he heard Grantaire’s voice behind them:

“What the hell is going on?”

“Just go back in the other room R, please, don’t get involved,” Enjolras said, looking at him with pleading eyes and hoping beyond measure that on this one time, Grantaire would just listen and do what he asked without question.

“Like I’m leaving you alone with some random maniac?” Grantaire said as he strode towards them both, only stopping when the man reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a gun that he waved threateningly from one of them to the other as he started to laugh.

“ _I’M_ the maniac? Really?”

“I think the gun you’re pointing at us answers that question, don’t you?” said Grantaire and earned a _please shut the fuck up_ glare from Enjolras. Perhaps it was because, unlike the other man, he wasn’t used to being set upon like this but there was less fear in Grantaire’s response and he looked almost ashamed of Enjolras for yielding so easily as he reached into his pocket for his phone. “Jesus Enj, you don’t need to put up with shit like this! I’m ringing the police-“

“PUT THE FUCKING PHONE DOWN NOW!” the booming voice of the man came with such ferocity that both his spectators fell into silence and Grantaire lowered the phone from his ear as held his hands up in a show of surrender.

“Ok, you need to calm down,” he said as the man lunged forward to grab the phone with his free hand and throw it down on the floor where it clattered loudly in the suddenly suffocating silence.

“Grantaire, shut the fuck up,” Enjolras hissed and earned another look of bewilderment at his apparently shameful resignation but if that was what it took to keep the man he loved safe then so be it. Purposely ignoring him, he turned his attention to the guy pointing a gun in his face and spoke carefully. “I’m listening. Tell me what you want to say to me. I’m not going to fight back so you don’t need to threaten me with that thing. Just say whatever you want.”

The man’s eyes narrowed as he glared at Enjolras and after a second or two, it became apparent there was a tear glistening in the corner, threatening to spill at any second. “Do you honestly think that’s all it’s gonna take? You really believe there’s any words you could ever say that would make up for what you’ve done to my family?”

“What exactly have I done to your family? I don’t even know who you are.”

“Maybe not but you know my daughter, or maybe you don’t recognise her anymore?” And with that, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a creased photograph, pushing it under Enjolras’ nose with a hand that was beginning to tremble.

Enjolras felt his stomach sink. He didn’t need to see the girl in the photograph wrapped in bandages in a hospital bed to know who she was. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I really am. I know it doesn’t help but I really am. I didn’t mean for her to get hurt. I really-“

“I don’t wanna hear your pathetic excuses! I haven’t come here for that.”

“So what do you want?”

The man took a long deep sigh before he cocked the gun and pointed it back at Enjolras’ face. “Justice.”

“Woah, hold it, that’s enough,” said Grantaire as he moved a step closer to Enjolras and reached out a tentative hand before withdrawing it as the gun was flashed in his direction.

“You don’t want any of this pal, trust me. I’m not here for you so if you’ve got any sense, you’ll just leave us alone.”

Enjolras caught Grantaire’s eye and held it pleadingly. It was the most painful moment he had ever endured because before now, he had never known what it was to try and tell the man he loved goodbye without breathing a word. The panic that was all too evident in the expression on Grantaire’s face made it clear he was thinking the same thing. Unfortunately, the other man who was also present noticed it too.

“Oh I see,” he said with a derisive scoff. “Well that makes it more interesting. Maybe there’s a better way to get justice after all.” And he moved his aim to the new target of Grantaire.

“No! Please… please don’t hurt him!” Enjolras knew he was playing straight into the man’s hands with his words but he couldn’t help it. None of the diplomatic skills he had ever learned and used to his advantage in confrontational events like this were any good when the life of the man he loved was at stake. He could feel himself going numb with fear as he tried to put his body between the two men.

“ _Back off now or I swear to god I will do both of you_!” The guy was beginning to lose control, his hands were shaking so much that the gun was trembling as it wobbled precariously in front of Grantaire’s chest and the sweat that was shimmering on his forehead was beginning to trickle into the creases of his face where a stray few tears had already marked a path.

Enjolras stopped where he was but the hand that had reached out to Grantaire was still suspended in motion as it hovered in front of his chest, as if he might be able to catch any bullet that might endanger this man with quick reflexes and desperation alone. His voice was barely more than a whisper when he spoke again. “Please… I’m begging you… I don’t care what you do to me but he hasn’t done anything to hurt you. He doesn’t deserve this.”

“My daughter didn’t deserve to have her skin melted off but she had no choice in the matter either! Just because she had a stupid obsession with a guy who didn’t even know she existed.. and now I see why. Do you know she had a photo of you from a newspaper cutting that she carried around in her purse? She thought you were a fucking god with all your damn preaching. She only went that day because she wanted to try and impress you and I bet you didn’t even know she was there until she got in the way and… and THIS happened!” He was gasping for breath as he waggled the photograph back in Enjolras’ face again to prove his point. “Well you tore my heart out that day so I’m gonna take yours in return… I just didn’t expect to have to find it in someone else.”

“You… you’ve got it wrong…” Enjolras stammered, fighting a losing battle against the flood of panic that was overwhelming him from the inside out. “This guy is just… he’s my brother’s neighbour… I don’t even know him that well… he’s not… not important to me.”

It was ridiculously unbelievable by any of the three men, yet even lying about it made Enjolras feel sick. He couldn’t look at Grantaire. Couldn’t risk a single glance.

“How stupid do you think I am? That’s not gonna work. I know what love looks like. Its what breaks my heart every single time I look at my poor daughter’s face and so help me God, you’re gonna get a fucking taste of it too.” Unable to hold back the emotion anymore, he started gasping loud breathy sobs now as he clasped the gun with both hands to try and steady himself. “I want the truth from you now, do you hear me? _THE TRUTH,_ or I will make you watch this man die in front of you, do you understand what I’m saying?”

“YES! God yes, ok, anything! I understand.”

“Good.” There was a moment of calm and confidence in the man’s voice as he recognised the control he now had and he paused to take a deep breath and gather himself. When he resumed speaking, the tone of his voice had changed to reflect this. “You tell me what this man really means to you… and if I think for one second you’re lying-“

“ _I love him_ ,” Enjolras said before the guy had a chance to finish the sentence. It was all too easy to say and lying convincingly wasn’t an option anymore. Attempting it would have been signing Grantaire’s death warrant and, by default, his own as well. “I love him so much that I can’t breathe or even think without him and if you hurt him now, you will most definitely succeed in getting the justice you want because I can’t live without him and you will be killing me as well… but I implore you… _I’M BEGGING YOU…_ don’t make mistakes like I have made because you’ll have to pay for it for the rest of your life. And your daughter deserves better. She deserves better than me and she deserves better than having her dad in prison for murder. You’re right, I didn’t know her well enough, I didn’t pay her any attention or consider her welfare or safety… but you are her father and you can. And you _SHOULD._ And doing this isn’t achieving that… You’re a good man who knows that… I know you are…. You’re a father who loves his daughter. You are not a murderer… and you don’t want to be…. Please…. Please.”

For just a second, it seemed to be making a difference. There was a momentary lapse of resolve in the man’s expression, his hand lowered just a fraction, his shoulders slumped, the rage was slowly but surely giving way to sadness and there was the faintest glimmer of hope.

And then Enjolras made the mistake of looking at Grantaire.

Whether it was the fear he knew was still there to see in his eyes, the effects of the forced declaration of love that had been so heartbreakingly sincere that he knew Grantaire couldn’t have doubted it, or simply just the act of catching his eye, Enjolras could never afterwards be sure, but as soon as their eyes met, Grantaire reacted in a way that nobody expected, launching himself at the attacker and making a grab for the gun in the man’s shaking hands…

Which turned…

And went off in his chest.

The ear-splitting sound of the fired shot rang out through the hallway and the force of it threw Grantaire backwards where he landed flat on his back, sprawled on the hallway floor.

“ _FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!!!”_ the attacker was cursing under his breath as he backed away to the door and fumbled to get it open.

Enjolras had not a single care to try and stop him from leaving – there was nothing in the world that mattered more than making sure he didn’t lose Grantaire. Finally free to move at will, he fell forward onto his knees at the man’s side and ripped his t-shirt open to find the wound, only to cry out with a desperate wail of pain as his hand and his eye fell to the deep red blemish just below Grantaire’s shoulder that was oozing a continuous stream of blood.

“Don’t you fucking dare close your eyes!” Enjolras cried as he ripped off his own t-shirt and pushed it against the wound with one hand as he tried to scramble about on the floor behind him to reach the phone that had been thrown down with the other. His fingers were wet and slippery with the coating of blood and it took several attempts to grab a proper hold of it, made harder because he couldn’t bear to break eye contact with Grantaire for fear that it would somehow make the man he loved stop trying. His eye lids were already starting to flutter with the effort of staying open and his breath came in short raspy bursts as he tried to reach a hand up to grab onto Enjolras’ arm.

By the time Enjolras had rang for an ambulance, he was crying so desperately that he was fighting for breath himself as he threw the phone back down and used his now free hand to cradle Grantaire’s head on his lap.

“They’re coming baby, just stay with me, Ok? Keep listening to my voice… Keep looking at me,” he stammered between gasping breaths, blinking furiously against the tears that were blurring the vision of Grantaire’s face and falling onto the man’s ashen skin.

“Never… never stopped… looking… at you,” Grantaire muttered, each syllable seeming to zap a little more of his rapidly dwindling strength. There was a gentle hint of a smile on his face as he struggled to keep hold of the grip he had on Enjolras’ arm. “Apollo… love you too.”

*


	13. "Another Story Must Begin"

The ticking of the clock on the wall was getting louder and the movement of the hands slower; and Enjolras was pretty sure he was an expert on both these things as he’d been staring blindly at it for the best part of an hour. Having something steady and monotonous to focus on was keeping him from going crazy, yet driving him insane at the same time. He could feel the urge to wrench the thing from the wall and hurl it across the room growing stronger with every painfully slow movement of its stupid hands.

When the double doors swung open and Combeferre strode towards him, Enjolras stood up because if he had to sit mindlessly on this plastic chair for another second he would lose it.

“Ok, Courf’s taking the kids home now and he’s gonna see if he can get someone to sit with them so he can bring you a change of clothes back.”

“I don’t need clothes,” Enjolras stated blankly. “Why do I need clothes?”

“Enj, you’re covered in…. in blood,” Combeferre replied, softening his voice as if this would somehow also soften his brother’s distress at wearing a t-shirt that was soaked in his boyfriend’s blood. “The kids were terrified when they saw you.”

“I’m… sorry.” Somewhere in the fog of Enjolras’ mind was a feeling of guilt over scaring his niece and nephew but he couldn’t cling onto it with enough attention to warrant any more of a reaction. Right now, everything was taken up with waiting for Grantaire to get out of the operating theatre and to know he was OK. There was nothing else that mattered until he knew he hadn’t lost the man he loved. Nothing but his pain and the ticking of that damn clock.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Combeferre and rubbed a hand on his brother’s back. “Lets just concentrate on making sure R is ok right now, yeah? How long had he been in theatre when we arrived?”

“Uhh… an hour or so?” Enjolras looked at the clock for the millionth time. “No… maybe longer. Shouldn’t we have heard something by now? It shouldn’t take this long, should it? I mean, if everything was ok, they’d be done now and… and… _oh god…_ ”

“STOP.” It was all too easy for Combeferre to use his authoritative big brother voice and when he heard Enjolras’ tone getting higher and beginning to crack, he knew it was needed right now. One of them had to stay calm and it was too much to expect that from Enjolras, despite the fact that he’d been worryingly quiet since his family had arrived to join him at the hospital. “Don’t let yourself start going along that road, Enj, trust me. It won’t do either of you any good. He will be OK, I know he will. So you hold onto that, right?”

Enjolras pressed his lips together and breathed hard through his nose before he looked at his brother and nodded. “Ferre, I can’t… I can’t lose him-“

“Enjolras, you stop that right now, and you listen to me,” said Combeferre as he grasped his brother by the shoulders and turned the man round to face him. It was scary how limp he felt, as if something inside had already given up. It scared Combeferre enough to make him strong enough for both of them. “Nothing is going to take R from you, I promise. I won’t let it. _I WON’T._ So you need to be strong for both of you, OK? You are one of the strongest people I’ve ever known. For fuck’s sake, use some of that now, you hear? Find some of that strength that makes you the warrior I know you are and use it. He needs you to.”

“No, he doesn’t need me to. He doesn’t need _ME_ at all. If it wasn’t for me he wouldn’t even be in this place right now. It’s always because of… of _ME._ ”

Combeferre exhaled a heavy sigh and shook his brother. “Fucking hell, we are not doing this again! If you wanna feel sorry for yourself, you do it later when we know R is ok and you are free to blame yourself until the end of time for this, just like you do for everything else, no matter how much I tell you it’s not needed.” He punctuated his words with another long sigh and shook his head sadly when he saw the look of defeat in Enjolras’ eyes. “Christ’s sake, Enj, you are not responsible for all the bad shit that happens in the world and you need to stop thinking you are. And you _ARE NOT_ responsible for what happened today… Although _I_ will be when I get hold of the guy who did this.”

“I’ve told you, he will turn himself in. I’ve seen the type many times. The guilt will get to him. We don’t need to worry about that, trust me-“

His words came to an abrupt halt when the doors opened again and a familiar looking nurse walked in and made a bee line for the two of them across the waiting room. The brothers fell into an apprehensive silence and Combeferre still had his hands around Enjolras’ arms, instinctively grasping a little tighter as the nurse approached.

“Please-“ was the only word Enjolras could manage and the entire world fell into a dead silence as he awaited a response.

And then the nurse smiled a smile Enjolras would remember forever. “All looks good. We’ve taken him through to recovery now.”

The numbness of relief kept Enjolras from collapsing in an emotional heap but the tears were streaming quietly from his eyes as he leant against the support of his brother and when he spoke, it was difficult to keep the gasping sobs from escaping in heavy breaths. “He’s OK?… He’s going to be OK?”

“The bullet has done some damage to his deltoid muscle and there could be some nerve damage as well but it’s too soon to know for sure the extent of these things at the moment. For now, we have removed the bullet, stabilised the wound and dressed it and he’s conscious so yes, there’s no reason to worry unduly. Your friend is still with us.”

“He’s not my friend, he’s my partner,” said Enjolras and then met his brother’s eyes just as the tears finally overwhelmed his own.

Combeferre was ready to catch his brother as he unravelled in his arms and as he held him tightly, he exchanged a smile with the woman and said, “When can we see him?”

“Soon. His nurse is just settling him into the ward now and once the doctor has been round, you can have a quick five minutes as long as it doesn’t get too late. Unless you want to come back for visiting time tomorrow when you can have a bit more time?”

“I’m never gonna be able to get this one home until he’s seen him,” said Combeferre and earned a kind chuckle from the nurse.

“I see that! Ok, I would suggest grabbing a coffee or something and I’ll come and get you as soon as I can.”

*

With some gentle persuasion from his brother, Enjolras had drank two very bitter watery coffees by the time he was finally taken through to the ward where Grantaire was staying and it had done nothing to help his already frazzled disposition. He still hadn’t changed his blood soaked t-shirt (clearly Courfeyrac hadn’t been able to find anyone to sit with the kids) his hair was a frizzy mess from the amount of times he’d anxiously scraped his fingers through it, his eyes dark and sore and he couldn’t stop himself from shaking. To be fair, Combeferre didn’t look much better as he stepped along the corridor at Enjolras’ side and had the kindness to hang back when they reached the ward and were directed to the right bed.

It was getting late and the lights had already been turned down for the other patients on the ward but luckily Grantaire had been positioned near the nurse’s station from where more visibility was available. As Enjolras moved towards the bed, he felt his heart lurch as the soft light fell over the shadow of the man he loved laid out before him, motionless, bandaged across his chest and hooked up to an IV drip.

“Hey you,” Grantaire murmured groggily, his eyes only half open as he gingerly lifted a hand that was quicky encased in Enjolras’ grasp. He smiled weakly. “You… look like… shit.”

Enjolras sniffed back tears and laughed quietly. “Just be thankful for this lighting! It’s even worse up close.”

“Never… still sexy as hell.”

“And you’re still drugged up,” Enjolras said with a grin as he sat himself in the chair beside the bed and rested his elbows on the bed, Grantaire’s hand still clasped within his own. “How are you feeling? Are you in pain?”

“Nah… like you say…. Drugged up,” said Grantaire as he turned his head on the pillow to face the other man. “Might be sore for a bit though… have to be gentle with me for a while… sorry Apollo.”

“As if that’s ever gonna be a problem! Jesus R, you scared the hell outta me… It’s me who should be saying sorry-“

“Shhh… no need. I’m… an idiot. Shouldn’t have done that… You were talking him round.”

Enjolras raised the hand that he was still clutching to his mouth and kissed it softly. “I’m never… _NEVER_ … going to put you in that position again. I won’t ever let anyone hurt you. I promise you that.”

With his hand still being held to Enjolras’ mouth, Grantaire flexed his fingers to brush gently along the other man’s cheek. “Meant it… what I said… Love you.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Nurse might have something to say about that.”

“I don’t mean tonight,” said Enjolras as he shifted his chair closer to the bed. It was still too much distance for his liking. Hell, if the other man hadn’t been in such a delicate condition, he would have climbed up beside him and dragged him into his arms. Let anyone try and stop him! Grantaire’s hand felt so frail in his grasp, he wanted to throw himself protectively over him and bare his teeth at anyone who even looked at the man in his arms the wrong way. Never had the protective instinct been so strong inside him as it was at that moment. “I can’t be away from you. I’m not going home.”

He hadn’t even considered it before he heard the words escape unplanned from his mouth but there was a confidence in them he couldn’t deny. The little details he would work out later; they didn’t matter right now, but there was no way he was going back to London and leaving this man behind. It wouldn’t be home anymore. Not without Grantaire by his side.

“Home,” Grantaire repeated the word in a whisper as he curled his fingers back around Enjolras’ hand and squeezed as tightly as he could manage. “With me… Don’t wanna lose you.”

Enjolras blinked back fresh tears and laughed because he had spent a long miserable few hours thinking the exact same thing. “Never. You’re stuck with me.”

Neither man had any awareness of the presence of Combeferre until he coughed awkwardly and drew their attention to the foot of the bed where he was stood with his hands in his pockets and a tired smile on his face.

“Hey buddy, how you feeling?”

“Tired… good,” Grantaire replied with a breathy sigh.

“Yeah, I’ve been told to come and get you Enj. We’re being booted out now.”

Enjolras was torn between wanting to hold onto Grantaire’s hand for the rest of his goddamn life and wanting to get outside, breathe some fresh air and let himself be the wreck that he wanted to be for a while without the other man witnessing it. As he rose from the chair, he leant down to press a gentle kiss to Grantaire’s mouth, still clinging on to his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow, as soon as I’m allowed, OK?”

“You better. And get some sleep too… Must be exhausted.”

“We’ll be back for visiting tomorrow,” said Combeferre because although it was a completely pointless statement, he needed to say something to remind them both he was still there. “Move your ass Enj. Your guy needs to rest. He’s in good hands.”

It was the very last second that Enjolras let go of Grantaire’s hand after he had leant down to kiss him one more time and brush a strand of hair away from his eye. “Love you R.”

*

Despite how thoroughly exhausted he was, Enjolras couldn’t sleep and when he finally gave up and got up for a cigarette at three o’clock in the morning, it seemed he wasn’t the only one. The house was still in darkness and when Enjolras crept into the kitchen and opened the door to the garden, the motion sensor light caught his movement and lit up the figures of Combeferre and Courfeyrac who were stood either side of the bin that was being used as an ashtray and each smoking a cigarette. They each looked as guilty as the other at being caught out.

The surprise at seeing them there soon gave way to a laugh as Enjolras walked over to join them. “Secret’s finally out then? You two are as bad as each other!”

“You’re one to talk,” said Courfeyrac with a grin. “Guessing you couldn’t sleep either then?”

“Not a chance. Might make coffee.”

“That’ll help,” Combeferre teased as he struck his lighter and held out the flame for Enjolras to light his own cigarette. “Aren’t you freezing?”

Enjolras hadn’t given a thought to putting any more layers on before he left the house. He hadn’t given a thought to much other than Grantaire since he’d got back from the hospital. “Still too numb I think. Can’t feel much of anything.”

“That’s the shock coming out. You really should try to get some sleep Enj. You’re not gonna be any use to R if you get ill yourself.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not the one with a bullet hole in my chest,” said Enjolras and shivered as he brought the cigarette to his lips and took a long drag. “Guys, I need to talk to you both about something.”

“You’re not going home, right?” said Combeferre and laughed when his brother threw him a wide-eyed look of alarm in return. “Enj, you’re such an open book! Don’t look so shocked. We never expected you to go home. That became obvious weeks ago.”

Enjolras was genuinely surprised. “Did it?”

Courfeyrac rubbed his shoulder affectionately. “We were just waiting for you to catch up but yeah, Ferre’s right. As soon as we saw the spark between you and R, it was kind of a done deal. There was no way you were ever going to leave him.”

“Wow, I gotta work on hiding my feelings more,” said Enjolras, a little uncomfortably, as he shuffled his feet and hunched his shoulders against the cold.

“No you don’t bud,” said Combeferre. “We love you just as you are… Pain in the ass that you are.”

“What about the ABC?” Courfeyrac asked.

“I’ll relocate it. The joys of having a virtual office. Jehan will be pleased he can have a break from it,” said Enjolras and felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of leaving his best mate but the prospect of that was easier than the alternative. Besides, Jehan had family up this way too so was often driving over for weekends and holidays. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to think they could still find a way to spend time together. Enjolras would find a way and make any effort needed to see it happen. He wasn’t about to allow anyone who really mattered to him a free exit from his life. Not after these last few weeks when it had really been brought home just how important his loved ones were.

“And perhaps be a little more selective in the battles for a bit… just throwing that out there,” Combeferre added.

“Goes without saying. I’m not about to endanger the people I love. But I’m not gonna stop helping these other people either. I just need to find the best and safest way to do it,” Enjolras mused as he took another drag of his cigarette. “I dunno yet. There’s gotta be a middle ground.”

“You’ll figure it out bud,” said Courfeyrac as he exhaled a final breath of smoke and threw his cigarette butt into the bin. “We’ll help you. But right now I’m gonna make some tea. It’s gotta be better than coffee at this time of the night.”

“I think it’s morning,” Enjolras called back as his brother in law made for the kitchen door and laughed when he received an exaggerated sigh from the man before he disappeared through it. Once he was alone with his brother, Enjolras held his gaze through the muted light and smiled tentatively. “Do you mind Ferre? Honestly?”

“Do I mind if I have my pain in the ass little brother around all the time, causing trouble and making me go prematurely grey with stress?” He tossed his cigarette into the bin and pulled Enjolras into a rough one-armed hug on his way past him. “Don’t ask stupid questions bro. The kids will love it. And so will I.”

*

It was the oddest Christmas Eve Enjolras had ever experienced and the only one he’d ever spent half of waiting in the hospital for his boyfriend to be discharged. It was already nearing the middle of the afternoon and he had helped the man dress and pack his things ready to leave at least two hours since. Sat slumped in the chair beside the bed that Grantaire was, thankfully, now perched on instead of laying in, Enjolras glanced at his watch and sighed.

“How can it possibly take this long to get your meds ready and sign you out?”

“You know I’ve been waiting to get out of this place a lot longer than you have, right?” Grantaire replied with a smirk and beckoned him closer. “Now come and help me get my jacket on. I’m getting chilly just sitting here doing nothing.”

Enjolras got to his feet and helped the other man slide his arms carefully into the sleeves. He had got quite used to being an extra pair of gentle hands for him over the last couple of weeks. It was going to be some time before he was able to handle him with the strength and fervour that the fire burning inside commanded but so be it; there was no rush anymore for anything. Not now they had all the time in the world.

“Can’t wait to sleep in my own bed tonight,” said Grantaire. “Well… your bed.”

“Same thing,” said Enjolras and winked at him as he smoothed the top of the man’s jacket and cupped his face in his hands before leaning in for a kiss. “Don’t expect me to let go of you all night though.”

“Sounds promising.”

Enjolras laughed softly. “You’re still too fragile for that! No way in hell I’m risking hurting you.”

“I’m sure you can be gentle. I fact I know you can,” said Grantaire and reached up to catch Enjolras’ mouth in another kiss. “So no shirking on your nursing responsibilities. I expect the full treatment.”

“Oh you will get it,” Enjolras purred as he smiled down at the face he was still holding in his hands; the face of the man he loved so much. “Makes me a little concerned about where you have got these ideas from though. What sort of care have you been receiving in this place, may I ask?”

It was Grantaire’s turn to laugh this time and the carefree happy sound of it made Enjolras’ heart race. “You have nothing to worry about there Apollo! Aint no one other than you getting their hands on this here body of mine. Battered as it is.”

“Beautiful, you mean,” Enjolras corrected and was still gazing down lovingly at the man when, not for the first time, Combeferre coughed from somewhere behind them.

“Jesus Christ, do you two ever leave each other alone for more than a minute?”

Enjolras reluctantly released Grantaire and turned to grin at his brother. “Not if I can help it.”

“Well you might have to for a bit as I’ve just seen the nurse and she’s on her way now with your meds thank god. Courf has had to spend a small fortune in the shop downstairs to keep the kids entertained.”

“The kids are here?” Grantaire asked as he got to his feet with Enjolras’ help. “It’s Christmas Eve, for gods sake.”

“Hey, don’t look at me! I told them they’d be better waiting at home for you but Zel threw a proper strop and Gav got all pouty,” said Combeferre and shook his head in defeat. “Was just easier to give in on this occasion. Plus I agreed we could pick up a takeaway on the way home but that was more for our benefit, if I’m honest.”

Grantaire was about to emphatically express his agreement on that point when the nurse finally appeared in the doorway, carrying his medication and paperwork.

“All ready to go?” she asked with a well-practised cheery smile.

“Hell yes,” Grantaire replied as he took hold of Enjolras’ arm to help him move on legs that hadn’t been used to moving for some time. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome my lovely. It’s nice to be able to get someone out of this place before Christmas, if only just. But you just take care of yourself, OK?”

“I will,” said Grantaire as he exchanged a smile with Combeferre and then held on tighter to Enjolras. “I’ve got my family to make sure of it.”

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who subscribed and stayed with this story until the end! I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Thank you so much for all the lovely comments and kudos along the way - has really kept me motivated to keep going with it!
> 
> It's lovely to give these boys who I love so much a happy ending. I think they deserve it!


	14. "EXTRAS: Add On Scene To End of Chapter 8"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional Scenes:
> 
> This is the romantic smut that describes Enj and R's "first time" that is indicated to take place at the close of chapter 8: "I Soar Through A World That Is New, That Is Free."
> 
> I left it out of the original copy as I thought it detracted from the flow of the story and I didn't want it to be too smutty but I felt the boys deserved a mind-blowing "first" so decided to add it on as a bonus end chapter.
> 
> For anyone who is new to reading Dying For You, I will add a note at the end of chapter 8 so you can read it in order if you want to or skip it if you prefer the story without the smut. For those of you who love a juicy bit of romantic smut, please enjoy!  
> ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Make yourself comfortable.”

There was not a single moment in Enjolras’ entire life when he had ever felt less comfortable and more vulnerable than the one where he found himself stood, completely naked, in the middle of Grantaire’s bedroom while the other man made his way across the room to draw the curtains. When Grantaire turned around and saw Enjolras stood beside the bed with his arms hugged protectively around himself, he laughed softly.

“What?”

“Enj, you look so innocent and nervous… you’re like a fragile flower.”

Whether or not it was intentional, the words made Enjolras relax enough to laugh. “Why do I feel I should be offended by that comparison?”

“It wasn’t an insult baby,” said Grantaire as he drew Enjolras back into his arms and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly with a confident yet gentle smile. “The idea of you being submissive for me turns me on more than you’d ever believe… makes me want to just wreck you.”

Those last words were almost a growl and became lost in the powerful kiss that followed them. Enjolras could taste the unmistakable salty sourness of his own semen that was still lingering on Grantaire’s tongue and it only served to remind him that he had been given relief when the other man’s rock solid erection, currently pressed hard against his groin, was still in desperate need of attention. He was vividly aware that it was himself who had been on the receiving end last night as well and he wanted to be a giver too, not just for Grantaire’s sake but his own also. A little confidence wouldn’t have gone amiss right then but his courage seemed to have abandoned him at the worst time.

“I know what you said…” He breathed between kisses. “But… I want… to make you come… Is about you too.”

Grantaire released his mouth for just long enough to draw breath and utter a response that was as tenacious as it was brief. “Not yet.”

Still, Enjolras could not stop himself from reaching for Grantaire’s cock and he had barely got his hand in place around it before the other man sucked in his breath and drew away.

“No… I need to calm down a bit first… not like this Enj… Wanna make it last.” Grantaire was still holding Enjolras but at arms length now, his hands in a firm grasp around the other man’s shoulders as he closed his eyes for a moment and steadied his breath. A moment later, when his eyes fluttered open again, Enjolras was warmed and encouraged by the sight of the smile on his face as he pressed their mouths back together in a lighter, lingering kiss. “Relax baby… you need to. And stop worrying. In fact—"

Enjolras did not have time to realise what was happening as Grantaire reached down, wrapped his arms around Enjolras’ thighs and lifted him in one sudden movement from the floor. His instinctive response was to hook his legs around Grantaire’s back, to melt euphorically into the embrace, and he was both laughing and kissing the man simultaneously as he felt himself thrown down upon the bed, his arms still around Grantaire’s neck, keeping him close.

“Like that is it?” he said, looking up with a grin and reaching a hand to brush the hair away from Grantaire’s face. “My strong man.”

There was a minute or two then when neither man spoke and maintaining eye contact while Grantaire propped himself up over Enjolras who was still combing his fingers through the dark curls around his face was enough in that moment. Grantaire’s breathing had calmed, his chest no longer heaving as he drank in the sight of the adoring face of the man beneath him, stroking a gentle finger over the slightly parted lips and feeling the warmth of Enjolras’ breath on his skin.

He smiled. “Hey beautiful.”

Enjolras smiled back. Grantaire leant down and pressed one long, slow, tender kiss to his mouth.

“Put your legs back around my waist Enj.”

Once Enjolras had done so, Grantaire shifted his weight onto one arm, lifted the other hand from the bed, trailed it slowly down Enjolras’ side and made him visibly tremble as he traced light fingers across the other man’s behind.

“Shh, you’re so tense,” he soothed and began peppering Enjolras’ mouth with languid lazy kisses as he took his time circling a cautious finger around his rim, stroking his thumb across it, gently tickling and teasing. Before he had even got as far as entering him, Enjolras was already starting to writhe a little below him, his cock starting to harden again, a slight moan catching in his throat that deepened as he felt Grantaire’s finger work its way carefully inside him. Enjolras tremored. His eyes closed.

“ _Oh my god…_ ”

“Oh my god good?”

“Oh my god fucking amazing.”

Grantaire smiled to himself as he worked his way deeper into Enjolras, mindful of keeping his movements slow and controlled as he drew out again and gently back in, a little deeper each time, slowly building the pace and watching Enjolras’ face the whole time for indicative signs. He could both feel and see the nerves finally starting to release their grip on the man underneath him.

“Want me to add another one?”

Enjolras opened his eyes, wrapped a hand around the back of Grantaire’s neck and drew his face down to claim his mouth in a determined biting kiss. “I want more than your fingers,” he growled breathily.

A gentle laugh left Grantaire’s mouth between kisses. “Ok baby, I got you, don’t worry. Don’t be in such a rush. Just relax and enjoy it. I will give you everything you want, I promise. How could I not? Just look how fucking hot you are.”

Grantaire was determined to take his time and fill every single second of it with pleasure for Enjolras but he could also feel his own desperation growing and demanding attention. It was getting harder to ignore it, especially as he continued working Enjolras with his fingers, building the momentum as he added more. By the time he had three fingers submerged inside Enjolras’ ass, Grantaire had raised himself up onto his knees, breathing heavily again as he concentrated on the beautiful sight of what he was doing to the man and tried to stop himself from shaking with desire.

“M’hard again… already… fucking hell,” Enjolras moaned as he pushed his shoulders back against the bed and began thrusting upwards as he tried to power his way further onto Grantaire’s hand. “I wanna come with you inside me… while you’re fucking me… please R… Don’t know how long I can hold on.”

Grantaire removed his fingers from Enjolras without saying a word and climbed up the bed to open the drawer of his bedside cabinet, in which he felt around until his hand closed around the bottle of lube and, shaking a condom free from the box once he located it, he took both things back to Enjolras who was watching him intently. Silently, he held the gaze of the other man as he unrolled the condom over his cock and then emptied a generous amount of lube into his hand which he coated himself with liberally. With the remaining liquid on his fingers, he took two of them back inside Enjolras, rubbing his slick palm against the man’s rim and making him shudder.

“ _Apollo…_ ” Grantaire whispered as he climbed up Enjolras’ body and, leaning on his hands, bent his head so their mouths were almost touching. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard… but I gotta go slow to start… you drive me too wild… And I don’t wanna hurt you… If you want me to stop, you tell me, Ok?”

Enjolras arched his neck so he could reach his mouth to Grantaire’s. “I won’t… I mean, I will… You know what I mean.”

He was grinning but Grantaire just frowned. “Enj, I’m serious.”

Stroking Grantaire’s hair back from his face and tucking it behind his ears, Enjolras’ grin faded into a gentle smile. “I know, and it’s Ok. I trust you. I want you to let loose on me.”

A wave of euphoric longing rose up and surged through Grantaire’s body, culminating in a pained groan as he pushed himself back up onto his knees and gazed down through half closed eyes at the wide-eyed gaze and soft smile on Enjolras’ face. “Fucking hell, you’re just… stunning. You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted this.”

“Show me.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Grantaire’s mouth as he tapped his shoulder and prompted, “Legs up baby.”

Grantaire reached for a pillow and propped it under Enjolras’ lower back as he helped guide his body into position and though he could feel Enjolras’ eyes on him, he could not look at him as he lined himself up and began to thrust because he knew the look he would see would push him over the edge far too quickly. As it was, the instant heat and tightness of Enjolras’ ass enclosed around his throbbing erection was enough to take his breath away and when he was fully inside him, he held still for a moment for both their sakes.

“Ok?” It was all he could manage and even that was difficult.

Enjolras’ breath was heavier in his chest. “I’m good… You can keep going.”

Grantaire pulled out slowly before he thrust back into him, and this time he made himself lock eyes with Enjolras because he needed to see how he responded. Moreover, he needed to drink in the sight of the man he was claiming; the man he was so utterly taken with and had been since their first meeting. Nothing in the world was more beautiful than Enjolras to him in that moment. Nothing could compete with the man laid out before him; of whom every inch was tantalising and perfect to Grantaire, from the slightly matted blonde curls splayed out against the duvet to the soft pressure of his ankles as they pushed against Grantaire’s shoulders, and everything in between. As he increased the pace, he could not resist clawing his hands down across Enjolras’ chest and stomach before they found his cock which was fully renewed and throbbing again now.

“Fuck… you feel so good,” Grantaire’s voice was a raspy moan as he fought against himself to control the pace. “So fucking good Enj.”

Enjolras giving himself over so fully and looking so goddamn vulnerable as he allowed the other man complete control was intoxicating to Grantaire. He wanted with an overwhelming desire to fuck him as hard as they both wanted but there was not a single moment in his entire life up until this point when he had been so mind-numbingly aroused and he didn’t want it to be over too soon. If his body would have allowed it, he would happily have continued fucking this beautiful creature for hours - goddamn entire days and nights even - until desperate exhaustion claimed them both.

“I can’t hold… gonna come.” Enjolras was fighting against himself, his head tipped back against the bed, his eyes squeezed tight, his brow furrowed and his lips parted against the force of his panting breath.

Grantaire didn’t need the announcement, he could feel the build-up pulsating in the iron-like rigidity of the cock in his palm. He started thrusting a little more recklessly as he continued massaging Enjolras’ erection and leaned forward slightly. “It’s ok… don’t hold back… let go baby.”

“Fuck me harder… god, please… please R… faster.”

Grantaire released his hold on Enjolras’ cock and reached his hands up to grasp around the man’s calves, pulling them forwards a little more as he pushed further down until he was leaning his fists onto the bed either side of Enjolras, staring down at him as he allowed himself to start losing the control he was barely clinging onto. Enjolras responded by bringing his hands to Grantaire’s and he had only got as far as looping his fingers around the man’s wrists when Grantaire grabbed those hands, linked their fingers tightly together and pressed them hard into the bed as he bore down harder and faster with every thrust. Beneath him, now pinned to the bed, Enjolras’ body rocked along with his own in such strong momentum that the bed was slowly starting to shift with the force of it, the springs that supported them straining creakily against the onslaught.

All the while, Grantaire kept bringing his gaze back to Enjolras’ face, checking he was ok, enjoying the way this stunning man was visibly falling apart right before his eyes in the most exquisite way; his expression contorted around the sweet agony of anticipation, his skin red and flushed and sticky with perspiration, the musty scent of it intoxicating as it drifted upwards into Grantaire’s face. The sheer beauty of seeing him like this was breath-taking. When Enjolras came, he came hard, and Grantaire felt the power of it both inside and outside of the other man’s body. It was all he could take and his own earthquake of an orgasm followed moments later.

With a long, trembling moan, Grantaire drew himself back up to his knees and with his hands now pressed against the backs of Enjolras’ thighs that were bent so far forward they were almost flush with the man’s stomach, he pushed a last few slow thrusts into him, emptying every drop of hot liquid that he possibly could.

“Jesus fuck.” Enjolras released a long shaky breath as he flung an arm across his forehead, wiping the sweat from his eyes as he did and becoming still but for the heaving of his chest.

After a moment, when Grantaire’s breath had returned, he moved slowly forward and picked up Enjolras’ arm, gently removing it from his face so he could see his eyes. Enjolras looked up and locked onto his gaze.

“Talk to me Enj… are you ok?”

Enjolras looked worried and Grantaire was too for just a moment until he heard the other man speak and his heart felt as if it was melting at the sound of the words that came from his mouth. “Did I… Was I… Ok?”

“Holy hell, are you kidding me? You really are my Apollo,” said Grantaire as he picked up Enjolras’ hands, raised them up to his mouth and kissed them. “Baby, you were amazing.”

There was the slightest hint of tears in his eyes as Enjolras smiled cautiously. “Hold me R.”

Grantaire relaxed himself down against Enjolras’ body and drew him into his arms, nuzzling his face into the other man’s hair when Enjolras leaned his head down against his chest. He sighed contentedly.

“I never knew it was supposed to be like that. Have never felt anything so… so incredible. I feel like I’ve been sleeping for 27 years and you’ve woken me up… and now I’m tired.”

Laughing, Grantaire reached round for the duvet and pulled it over them both. “Mmm. Lets get comfy for a while.”

“Maybe just half an hour,” said Enjolras, snuggling into the man, because although he knew he couldn’t stop all night, he couldn’t bear to let go just yet.

Grantaire closed his eyes with a smile. “Just half an hour.”


End file.
